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TU AMEIilCAN. 1 Jul' SI 



OR, 



TIIK MAinVI! (il- Till' .NLNKTEENTII Cl-NTl KV 



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ir toe*- 
*^ NEW-YOKK: *"" 

JOHN A. GRAY, PRINTER, STKUE0TYPP:R, AND lUXDEPw, 

F I K E - I' n O O F TJ r I I. i» I N <; s , 



16 i 18 JACOB STREKT, CORNER OF KRANKFOKT. 



(^f? 



18(31. 



y* 



</ 



^,^A. ^^,y/^^ 



A' 



Eiiiored, according to Act of Congress, in tVie year 1861, by 

Ii. J. LITTLE, ' 

in the Clerk's Offict' of the District Court of tlie United States, for tlie 
Southern District of New-York. 






A MOTIII.IfS IM'ACK 01 ri.IMN*;. 



CIIAPTKU I. ' 

To Miw. K M . 

*'• ■' ;> Kkli-ow-Tkachkk : You ;-.... 

your upiaion of Slavery, now 

■ ■ . • "'it-" i 
Tliough a u7or/i(in, I Iiave nn opinion concern- 

•■;: "slavery, in its liraitc<l, m well m Us moru 
1 sc-nso. But to give Jhis opinion to you, 
t giving you my rtasons, or mtber tin- 
<-■ ■.■:■■' of cUucntion which hna brought mo to j 
thi-i (pinion, (not this opinion to me,) would avail 
lull-. 

You are awnre that by nature and m-hool cdu- 
ciiiuti, our endowments ore widely dirtoront. 
That it is only by walking and talking togt'ihcr 

■ vnr tlio wnnl* tlio wnrka, nnd the ways of God 

' :i all of human kind,) 
. kc. 

• , u,... tl,.. c,., .. oh- 

• m 
t .1 'he 

(M'l^ ' f I III' iiuVLTval opprtrSBioii uuUor wbicli our 
carih t'fi'-.ii.i to-dny. 

You, my friend, have had ample opportunity 
to ask for truth, where money pays the tuition 

It has boon minoto obtain it "without money 
nnd without price." 

Tou liave studied in the schools of the world ; 
/, in thn school of e.\p<-'ricnci'. 

)' ■\^>- read books of human inspiration; J, 



I. 



<\. 



Ull-'.ill'-t 

N'uw. yuu gay to me: "1 shotild love to sit with 
you once more under the Rha<low of our old 
mountain, tn liston to wordH of tnith from vour 



Vov«>mb<<r l««t, I had a jinmlvlic alUrk which 

h 
d 

■■ r. «. : ^ 

should iIhmi l(ir^.'< I it- le 

clinvo to tho ro fof n ,. vc 

many years since iirayod, aii did l^uvid. liiai this 
may be my j>ortion if I prixe not Jerusalem 
abov< y. 

Yi; ■ rs are much weakened, and I 

have iiiiiiv ii.iinis wl - ' ' '* ■ ' ■' " '•■" a 
claim upon me as a < • i re 

adopt I hi' manner < ! , > nd 

through yoti, stud to ail, by asking lor each a 
copy at thf hrnid of iho press. 

I ii day f.f July, 18C0, finding my 

only ■ at Miller's llottd. in Shcffl<'ld, 

Maj'S. \\ ii. II i ■ " " . _ ^ 

housH-kcoper, likt r, 

who closed up hi r >....: - v.ill 

congratulate mo. 

The aire of my own person, a little daily writ- 
ing nnd talking, with exercise in the of^-n air 
by riding or walking, i« nil that I oan unffly at- 
tempt. Yet, a.s my w. ■ fa 
most lovely portion of I 'e 
I may hold comn • ■•■ ■. .. ilh 
God, amid the f:i: 'Me but 
eventful life, you at I am 
neither dejectcnl nor lonely. 

Tho 8ide-wnlka of this villsgo ar« much im- 
proved since you were here. 

To mv foet, there is no other path in open air 
" " •> ' , -'id earth. 



rest I 

ry m'l 
whicli 
with t 



-ts me to 

I her wlioso nietno- 

iicd upon the pages 

of slavery, together 

brought me to this 



• ' I my manner of life from my youth, you are 

'., . n t,.,! T,, '"nt'i I 111-.- !.'(<. vt il,'Hi/n, 

. re- 

I Uiii to l>«:UtfVe my vye^ 1 tiii<J UXM I Uiviki'uriiliOe. 

who .- ■ do." I It wno in the (uimmnr of IS21. a littlo b#foPB I 

Her.- :h ■ • . .■ ..^. 

alike ; and g. 



l>uinU« wiiereui wu diiter. 

7*., y,!-« yr,n to f'-i flt.T'*'^/ trifh fiv 'I/". wovH 
' i my hiddi : 

; i.H0*l were 



w.ir.i. y . ■ - , ■ ■ w^ . . 

pen as I proceed. I 

You are, perhaps, already m formed that in i 









•be 




iiv iiad 
i!>n«>«» 


ni- 
fuipiuyed 








- an 






-Xt 

of 








In- 








■ a- 


. CJMH' i .- 

ihe dcman. 




.te 




i to 



A mother's peace offering. 



the school-house situated three miles to the nortli- 
west of the village, and two miles east by north 
from my fethcr's, to enter upon the untried and 
unlooked-for responsibilities of teacher. For re- 
muneration, I was to receive board in the wortliy 
families of the district, and one dollar per week 
in cash at the expiration of the term. 

It was your own fortune to be one of the forty 
pupils then and there intrusted to my charge. 

The following summer (1828) I was invited to 
teaoli the same scliool for the same remuneration, 
and again accepted the call. The third summer 
of my teacher life, (1829,) I was invited to en- 
gage in Egremont, an adjoining town, at an ad- 
vanced salary, namely, one dollar fifty per week. 
Here I succeeded to the satisfaction of my em- 
ployers, and was urged to stay beyond the time 
for which I had contracted ; and was also urged 
on the return of another summer to state any 
terms on which I would take the school. But 
the then undiscovered gold of California could 
not have induced me to attempt to remain longer 
than to fulfill my first engagement. I could not 
explain myself I fdt that I could not, and that 
feeling influenced my decision. The truth was, 
the government of the school was as a yoke 
upon my neck which I was not able to bear. 
There were from fifty to sixty pupils, and among 
them a class of boys who had been accustomed 
to show to the females employed to teach them 
that to obey woman was not their province. I 
therefore felt that as a woman, it was my right 
to be excused from governing man when he has 
passed the period of early childhood. Though I 
had never been sick, and could not claim then to 
be side, I suffered the most excruciating pains in 
my teeth and face caused by overtasking the 
nervous system. Physiological science did not 
in that day shed its light upon those in my cir- 
cumstances in life. 

All that 1 knew, I read in the inner man, and 
had no theory by which to explain myself to those 
without; and while I acted out the rational 
truth wiitten by the finger of God within the 
natural man, as well as upon the inspired page, 
namely, "All that a man hath will he give for 
his life," I wa.'j thought by those stronger than 
myself to be strangely set in my own way, in 
that I did not yield to much solicitation and the 
opportunity of gaining money. Mr. D. I. Spur, 
prudential committee-man of the district in which 
ray father lived, then came to me, saying, he did 
not think to ask me to teach their school until he 
heard I was intent on remaining at home, be- 
cause he could not hold out the inducements in 
money matters that others would do; but he 
thouglit I could teach the little school where I 
had obtained my education, and be sufficiently 
at home. I acquiesced in his opinion, and the 
summer of 1830 found me in the home of my 
pupilage, raised to the honorary degree of 
teacher. Here my trials were adapted to my 
strength, and teaching beyan to wear an attract- 
ive aspect. lu autumn Mr. Spur asked me to 
teach the winter -school. But I readily objected 
to governing a school where boys of every age 
have been the privilege (as they should do) of at- 
tending. In a few days Mr. S. returned to 
tell me that he had conferred with the head of 
every family in the district, and each had given 
him promise that if I would consent to teach, 
no one should go from his family to give any 



trouble in the school. I consented, and for five 
succe.ssive winters (1830 to 1834) and three 
summers (1830 to 1832) was I employed in 
superintending and teaching the public school 
near my "Mountain Home." My success being 
rumored abroad, 1 was often solicited to go from 
home to teach, and on one occasion Rev. Mr. 
Burt, of Groat Barrington, urg( d so strongly, 
and found me so firm in refusing to go into 
that village and teach a winter term of pub- 
lic school, that he suspected I was about to 
be married. The simple reason lay in the fact 
that I did not judge it my duty or privilege to 
undertake the government of a winter school 
under any other conditions than those proffered 
in my native district. Iq the summer of 1831 
I publicly professed faith in Christ, and entered 
into covenant with God and his people. My 
wages had been increased to two dollars per 
week in summer and three in winter, beside 
board. The summer of 1833 found me teaching 
in the south-west district of the town ; my school 
numbering seventy pupils. During the fum- 
m'-rs of 1834 and 1835 I was in the village- 
school near the church. 

Our town, containing a population of 2500, 
scattered over a surface of some fifty or sixty 
square miles, had then but one church, (a Con- 
gregational.) The summer of 1836 I spent in 
the north part of the village in the school upon 
the plain. Every successive season increased 
my interest in the work of teaching, and gave 
me new power in that direction. In the autumn 
of 183G I was invited by one who had manifest- 
ed much interest in my teacher-life to take the 
place of a departed wife and mother in his 
family. After suitable deliberation I felt it ray 
privilege and duty to accept the proposal. 

The man with whom it was my de.stiny to be- 
come united for life was not one who had settled 
the question, " "What good thing shall I do to in- 
herit eternal life ?" but like the young man 
spoken of in the Gospel, ho had, to his own 
view, kept all the commandments from his youth 
up, and had not discovered what he yet lacked. 
But as the Siviour could look upon such a one 
and love him, it was surely right that I should 
do the same. 

It was a privilege in which I then rejoiced, iu 
which I do still rejoice, and in which I expect to 
rejoice eternally, notwithstanding my warmest 
earth friends, when they look upon the trials I 
have endured because of this union, deeply de- 
plore the fact that it ever existed. 

I have a strong desire to have my friends at 
ease in regard to my destiny. My sufferings 
have been greatly enhanced through believing 
they were not ; and it is one motive with me in 
these pages, to help them, if I may, into the light 
that shall give them a more perfect and soul- 
satisfying vision. The man of my choice was 
many years my senior. He stood head and 
shoulders above the mass, and was so guarded, so 
grave, and so signified, that envy, with its at- 
tendant malice, had not yet found an avenue 
through which to affect him seriously. Popular 
speech told of but one defect of his, and that lay 
in the government of 'his house. But he was 
evidently a great admirer of good order and 
peace. His heart was not out-spoken, and there 
was in his countenance a peculiar blending of 
the severe with the gentle. He united great 



A MOTIIEKS PKACK OFKKKINO. 



phyhicnl sUeOKlli auU an unlliocbiug purpoco 
Mi'iih llio iTMi.M ..' ■■>. . .r. -worn itpiiil, luvokly 
AHkiUff tor 

1 wvi 1; nianlin««M of ibo 

man, mid t luv Hpiril-yearoiiigK of bin 

ovidontly I :il. 

1I< . ' ' . >* ukinfc up un 

opiii. , although not 

pr..v. 

Ill ol 1^31 I Lnd been gliockc-d at 

tho Ik iiL, tlirough the prcM, ibat a 

crime ul deu^x.'8t dyo rMti<d upon u clatts of my 
fellow-bwiugH, liiotso wiio wore boui.U to me by 
tho boDda of a common country — (h« couolry 
especially favortd among tho nulions of the 
oarth. 

Mj uaturo revolted at the horrid opcctaclo 
pri -..nU'l to my imaginution ; and I oould do no 
r any more, than to urge in home 
1 t}io«c who wore deaipned by their 
MuAur lo w Aur with wrong, tho claimn 

of tho ui>i)i .itig for lite, and also pray 

to th t" ' 1 is the destiny of all, 

that : L«iK:d to go troo. 

He , .. r4 in a way very 

diflerotit from tl. . ny own mind; 

but in a wiiy v. i me into tho 

liKht of truili, fur wiiich 1 Uu-tt hU holy name. 
My hiiobniid, having bo*>n n rotailing morchnnl 
.iry, where ' i ll,o cit- 

:.ir many w :n lalx^r, 

oii't ii....-;.iug Uie ni.i.v. „..,. w,v -. >v.s of tho 
day. had iho opportunity of tfjmii.g more gra- 
dually to tho understanding that f»i4'p-niolher8, 
as a claa^, are oppressors; not troiu hiu de.scciid- 
inr ti p-irtii'i[>s!e in goiisip, but from being a 
ii d hands were employed 
8j tried had hia spirit 
■ ■' : -ition he there 
<.cn, in justice 

— ._-, . ,.... -V from his own 

: and be mo»t naiurally and con- 
i not pray lor lbo!-o ohjecta lor which 
he co^id not labor, and was Uicrofore little 
moved by the story of real or imagined wrong?. 
A 111 general rule**, he 

I i lot to introduce a 

.. V y, tf.at it was to be 

:<> hnd ffii: exception. But when, to 
ii :.ent, be learned that tho populace 

cUstteu me with tho guilty, theru wua in his cha- 
racter, as I hive'ii'rv>v«rtd. ht:i\ as [ f'xp<^ct to 
ahow to il • 
frenzy wli 

the truth, ii...><..n' • «...( m- . ..iv ..i,.i .i 3.;.,. i 
tho evidence in and by which ii ahoulJ be pre- 
sented. 

Believing, as I do, that he u now brought into 
the light ot tr-nh by a u;vj he knew not, and into 
astatewiu i.ce is tho natural atmos- 

phero. I y . present work upon tiio 

I > • our own convoLsion trom 

' jr fellows, is a nnvuj as 

\s ... 

ZacctieuH ciiini>e(i where he might look over 
those aro -.ud him, and ^• -^ .Tcsh. On that day 
«;ilvi\ 1 '• . .iine lo his I. as one of its 

:.r-i ( :! rL-i, he rrstor^ . Wo anv from 



I injured that which has been taken from them by 

I,, H.. 1. ■.».! ,1. under Lis own indoratmeiK 

' ■ lift, in (.' tlic ft-on/y which io 

,1 must 
I fly u|(on 

as 
■ine 
.....^lljo 
I 

I i.-tciU ui K' j«o 

:.A at tho i l.iat 

l".\u. 1 cijpy the foUuw.ug fr^ui a l'-lij.r datc-d 
' Aug. 8th, 1811): 

"I Iciirn that tho Rev. Kphrnim Little married 
two widf>w« — jliHt inoh liad children by her for- 

I mor 1 ■ ■ 'iim. 

' Tl ;)lo dlnve, and thnt some 

! ,..• , ,.. I, ,,.1.1.,... ^■.. ,,„d 



lumb-etonefl Ul Ihv buryiug-grvtind at Ooicliester. 

SACRED TO T 11 K MEMORY 

OF THE Rev. Kphraim Little, 

Pastor of tlie First Churih of CLrijit in Colchester, 

who died Juno &th, 17HT, in tho 

eightieth year of his age, and fifty-fifth 

of his ministry. 

IN MEMORY OF 

Mk.s. L:mza.cetu, 

Yc virtuous Consort of y« Rev. Mr. Little of 

Colchester, who departed this life Nov. 

Y« 13lh, 1754, in y* Fortieth 

Year of her age. 

" .So pinna, prodont pnttent and ktnd. 
Perhaps bur e<]u>l mty nut be left licbiod." 

S A C R K D TO THE MEMORY 

Or Mrs. Anir.Aii. Littlk. 

Tho virtuous Consort of tho Rev. 

Kpliraiiu Little, who died Juno 27lh, 1786. in 

Y^ 69th year of her age. 

The history of my hu.-band's fulhcr is little 
kf own t<-« ino. Ho f,.ll.,wo.l t!:*^ '^»n inf.'rly life; 

>^in 
!id 

i'\ ii'i .-'.'co.j't. i.'i i:..i.<t6U 



iinl w;i-i (1 


<-A \' 


ATS of iige 


wA titcir 




..iy. 
■i by an 


i aleigli, ti 




ne two 

• Iv© 

w 

■ >r 
r. 

..lie 



my 1... 
and \v 



bis prtitnl vnU through seeking to restore to the 



.•il, il«) iiVuii itioUO, 
'.il, 

'.i« 
d 

■ .- . - <M 

where was a mere supply of bread and water, 



6 



A mother's peace offering. 



and that gathered by the sweat of his own brow, 
I can not say. But I am convinced that his 
heritage gave hira great strength of purpose, and 
a dread of, if not a contempt for, poverty. For 
his mother and sisters he cherislied an affection- 
ate remembrance. His mother gave her child- 
ren to God in baptism through the Episcopal 
Church ; but she, with her eldest daughter, after- 
ward united with the Baptist Church. 

I have heard my husband say that his mother 
was at one time insane, through the trial to her 
mind of having their effects taken by an officer 
for debt. After her death, he was left to struggle 
only for himself. Perhaps some secret counsel- 
or whispered in the silent chambers of his soul, 
that what he could have done for his father was 
better kept as a gift for the house he would build 
for himself He applied himself diligently to 
useful labor from necessity ; and in so doing, ob- 
tained a reward which encouraged him to pro- 
ceed, till he found the seeming curse of his herit- 
age gradually removing. 

His half-brother, Noah Bulkley, eventually 
employed him as clerk in mercantile business, 
and afterward made him partner, till his own 
profits amounted to two thousand dollars. He 
now commenced acting alone with reference to 
building for himself a place and a name. While 
taking thought for the needful money, he was 
also taking thought for the " wise woman." 
After carefully selecting from among the pupils 
of Bacon Academy, an institution of high repute 
in his native town, new trials commenced through 
discovering that his fldr one did not duly appre- 
ciate himself, his labors and successes. His selec- 
tion being from a family which had never known 
the privations incident to now-country life, it was 
perfectly natural it should be so. But with great 
powers of endurance, and good business talent, 
he did not unite a power of tracing effects to 
their causes, but unhappily confounded them.by 
putting cause for effect, and vice versa. Hence, 
the foundation for a causeless hatred, which, 
united with a vindictive spirit, should lead him 
blindly to go a warfare at his oivn charges ; yet so 
concealed from the world without, that it should 
find nothing for spoil, except the peace of his 
single or wedded self. 

Here I take 03casion (compelled by a sense of 
justice) to transcribe from a parcel put into my 
hands by my husband, after my own marriage. 

Bast-Haddam, Ct., Feb. 29th, 1811. 
Mr. Ralph Little: 

Kind Sir: I write to prove my continued 
friendship, and to express a wish that this (on 
my part agreeable) correspondence may be con- 
tinued. You expressed in your last letter many 
interesting and pleasing sentiments. I hope they 
were truly coincident with your feelings. I have 
no reasons, obvious, to convince me they were 
not. I must therefore believe in the sincerity of 
your expressions, however extravagant. Per- 
haps your exalted ideas will again induce you to 
believe some one has found meaTis to divert me 
from writing. But I find my mind (after being 
tried) is too firmly established to be easily divert- 
ed from him to whom I am now devoted. In 
my last, I requested you to write particular. I 
mig"at again mal<e the request, with an explana- 
tion, but it would, perhaps, be of no use, as 
time will inevitably unfold all mysteries. . . 



You have doubtless heard of the death of your 
little niece, Mary Little. With sentiments, etc.. 
Your real friend, Maria Fox. 

KoRTRiGiiT, K Y., March 23d, 1812. 
To Maria: 

Come gentle spring, ethereal mildness, come. 

The season is now fast approaching when na- 
ture, released from her icy bonds, will resume 
her wonted gayety. The lark has already been 
heard to sing in the meadow, the blue-bird been 
seen perched upon the trees, and the red-breast 
hopping and chirping upon the ground in spots 
where the snow has left bare its face ; and in a 
few weeks more the fields will appear drest in all 
the pride of nature and innocence, the trees deck- 
ed iu the 'richest green and the hawthorn in 
blossoms of wbite. All tlie^e have power to ope- 
rate on the mind of the absent swain, and to 
awaken in the heart those tender feelings which 
the vulgar never knew. They will call afresh to 
my mind the time when, 

'• As I listened to thee. 
The happy hours passf'd by us un perceived, 
So was my soul fixed to the soft enchantment." 

Spring is a delightful season. I admire it for 
many things ; but for one thing I hate it. 

Inasmuch as this is an occasional epistle, and 
not directly in [the line of our correspondence, 
permit me to write whatever comes handy, and I 
will insert some lines written by Eliza in a book 
entitled " The Ruins of Innocence." Eliza was 
sitting in an arbor, and admiring the beautiful 
contrast between the tulip and the violet. The 
latter, the emblem of modesty, had concealed 
itself in the high grass. The former wantoned 
in the blaze of day, in all the conscious effron- 
tery of pride. She drew her pencil and wrote 
the following lines, which she entitled : 

MODESTY, 

The violet seeks the woodland shade, 

And simns the glare of day ; 
The tulip blushes in the glade, 

And courts the sunny ray. 

A florist roves the dewy lawn. 

And spies the gaudy flower. 
And plucks the useless blossom down, 

To grace his sylvan bower. 

The blossom droops, tlie leaves decay, 

Its roseate color flies ; 
It languishes for Phoebus' rays — 

It withers, fades, and dies. 

The violet blossoms in the shade. 

And shuns the solar ray; 
Vailed in its modest green, afraid 

Its beauties to display. 

And watered with the morning dew, 

It flourishes unseen ; 
Its flowers assume a deeper hue. 

Its leaves a fairer green. 

Learn hence, ye fair 1 . . . . 

Eliza had discovered a very pretty thought which 
she might have arranged in another stanza, but 
the poem was left unfinished. 

Maria, you said in your last letter there was 
mach you could write, and much more you could 
say, were you to see me. I don't know as you 
are hardly pardonable for such an omission — but 
here, you may take the inclosed profile, say to it 
all you would say to me, (and you can't be afraid 



A MOTHKUS PKACE OFFERIN(i 



■•< talk to so bamilctw a tiling M thnt,) write 
;..wi) hII you gny, and wml to mo. 

You will l>o kind cTif.iiv:li to wrilo by the 

i-oarer of ihin, Mr. KintnoiiH. I think he will dia- 

do9o nothitij:. I tliiok vou may ixjkcI to hoc 

iiif in iho courM' i<f lht> Mummcr, jurlm}^* the 

■roport. 

I an), iiB ever, meet sincerely yourf, 

R. LlTTtK. 

KoRinioUT, Auff. 29th, 1H13. 

Dear (Jirl: 1 at laRt roct-it'ed your letter 

V. ;th the iiitloeed. hut had loii^; before piven up 

hDR it I foftfod there niifiht have been 

lUff iu my letter which tlid not pleai>e you, 

1 r u ul your mind waa (li\' ' ' ' ■ liier nd- 

dic«*c«. I fear, nnd tliink 1 i to, if I 

r I, .. -..f ul .t ' . • . , .; L'li I last 

•ys of nur»e are not 
of your wishcf". I 
Wish ii wtru olhcrwi.Sf, but pnidence ought al- 
ways to direct, and the dictates of reaaon mu"t 
not bo disre^rardod. The times as jet ! 
been v« ry unfavorable for mercantile 

but the fut-r • - - -- t ,i ,./.. i« very ...^ 

hkriiip, arid ■< war should 

cease, will i ^ 'iinjj to. For 

my part, I am at a iixHs iiow loKhape my busineas 

f'<r the future to mako it profitable. I am glad 

Kiiow how to appreciate the pretended friend- 

of him you mentioned. For mv part, I 

iL.i.k him entirely incapable of friendship or sin- 

I . rity. I am also jjlad that your mind is com- 

i> -, 1 amidst the virulence of envy and slander. 

! • vere in well-doinff ; do nothing but what the 

. .. lous and candiil would approve; be virttious 

uiid bo happy. Once more adieu. 

R. LiTTLK. 

P. S. — The mail pnssinp last week earlier 
than usual, I missed of sending this letter which 
was ready written. I have now opened it to 
make an addition. As you live, my brother 
Bulkley tnnied with me In.st uiRhl — has pone to- 
day to the westward a piece — expects to return 
to-morrow. Do not be angry with me for thus 
deferring a visit, for Ilcavcn can Itll with what 
extreme reluctance I submit to this long protrac- 
tion of my happinei>s. It grieves me to the 
heart that I cannot write decisively, for I believe 
jcu expect it. Again adieu. K. L. 

I next introtluco a l-'H' r , ,i,irr.aa«yj \)j him who 
became my own marr to an intimate 

friend of Maria, the : Mi.ss Arnold 

afterward became the wiio ot iiev. Mr. Green, 
MiKsionary to the Sandwich Islands. 

, KORTRiGHT, Nov. 28tli, 1813. 
Miss Tueoposia Arnold: 

Pkar Makam : A thousand thanks are due to 
you for your continued fricrd«hip fo Maria, and 
your kind inlerpoeilion on 1 . r you say 

it was on her account you :. «•. Docs 

not this i lit lu con.so- 

([ueDce of I 'o let mo 

know it ex ,.. ; :i ? Ifso, 

iier feelings are periiaps t>.;MC.(icnl with mine. 
But tell me. Theodosia, if you know, how can a 
young creature like Maria — and one would think 
without a single care on her mind — I say, how 
is it possible for her to be discontented? Is it 
natural to the sex ? 



I ki^ow 'lis Raid — 



I • m Is form 

II die »• »"'r .NM'il ><'U mu»i eoofort her — for 
l.eaveii known, rather than cause her one uuue- 
cvpurj pang I would revigti this life. Hut if vou 
knew how litil«» I valuo it, perhapa you wimld 
think it but 1, ' " . ,^ 

di)(-ial if I V. 'T 

that damsel .- '^ 

situation ; for 



I hope it NMii ' I'ly with 

TOijr reT'ieM, >"■" ■-• a po»l- 

.'• II. ■ 1 mil v« ry anxioua 
ive K. II. 

.'\ic %•■. Ml 1 -u . as intimate as ever? 

Adieu, but if I see you let me hear no sighing. 
Again adieu, 11. Little. 

East-Haddam, April 28th, 1814. 

Mh. Litti.k : Words can notexprew the sur- 
prise I fell when it wa." (vrii!'. <l t<> mo thst \ou 
had left this place ! I • il 

p 'R-sible that you IIh-h : lU 

hud before ^ — ' Jte 

the singula; ;•>- 

sition of tl. . , , --d 

you," (to the eflect of whose intluence I am not 
insensible, and which I think you will not pre- 
sume to deny.) I could not accuse myaplf of 
being intentionally iu faiilt but you will Lake ibe 
liberty to i: '. ' '" not 

giving nie : ;• 8- 

tery," il api.'.... ■.. ■■ , ..^ . . . .uld 

remain so. My mind remains much as when I 
huut titikcd with you. Should it be con.siDteDi 
with your wishes and bvi^intss to take a journey 
to Ea.xi-Hsddam before ••urnnier, your r^Minnable 
expt> • 

Oii' nd 



■itiing it) I may 1 .to 

• in the fall. J . , 'i^- 

quamtcd with your calculalionH, il is liiiticull 

communicating such as you will perhaps wish to 

know. "The object of ycur ; ird'vi-ill 

endeavor to be prepared, il ; the re- 

,. ._..._. .. .,^^^ 

:«y 

: to 

- in 

■ ■• lo 

Ueprtvo UH of fcVfty *,;.^uyn.';:il wl.u.^ ctuiirs in 
terrestrial thinos. To that Iking may we now 

look for gu; ' ' " ' ' .red 

that the .T . 'it. 

.Vdieu. I ; •■■■■ 

Mahla Fo-T. 

P. S.— 1 n if it is cot 

convenient .-ing, and until 

I hear pomeii .n;; jmiu .i .u >■, ^i-you, I shall be 
anxiously expecting your arrival. Tbcodoiua 



A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 



sends her best respects to you, and appears much 
interested in our weitare and future happiness. 

M. P. 

Bast-Haddam, Oct. lOtb, 1814. 

You ask " What can I do ? when will it be 
otherwise '?" Mr. Little, I do not wish you to 
deviate from Avhat you consider strict proprietj', 
nor make the smallest sacrifice with a view to 
promote my happiness, which is not perfectly 
consistent with your own. Therefore I would 
wish to lay before you no temptation to do from 
a sense of duty or obligation, what you would 
never do from choice. 

I am at present inclined to think from the ir- 
regularity of your conduct, that the coldness and 
inattention which you have sometimes observed 
in my behavior, has been better calculated to 
highten your affection than the reverse. I shall 
not again take occasion to complain of " indiffer- 
ence and neglect," but ponder my unhappy fate 
in silence, and lock my sorrows in my lonely, 
restless bosom. Your confidence I fear I have 
never possessed but in part; the cause I can not 
fully comprehend, but the unhappy effect I now 
most sensibly realize. Can yon remain unaffected 
at this? Has not tbe time actually arrived that 
I may with propriety complain of the falseness 
of men and the vanity of all human expectation ? 
and would it be strange if at this time groans of 
anguish should break from my heart in sorrow 
for my credulity ? More than three years now 
have elapsed since the commencement of our 
correspondence. I think it now high time to 
conclude, and say it shall be otherwise, and 
pursue if not a happier a different course. Me- 
chinks the heart has now somewhat to do. But 
I forbear, and would at least indulge this thought 
for consolation, that ere long time may erase from 
my unhappy memory those sad reflections on my 
former flattering prospects. 

Should this find you contemiDlating new scenes 
for enjoyment, let not the thought of my disquie- 
tude abate the ardor of your pursuit. 

Please to burn this letter (when you have suf- 
ficiently perused it) with tbe others you have re- 
ceived from me, and in so doing perhaps the 
words of another will apply: " Thus perish every 
memento of my affection for M — a." The letters 
which I have received from you shall be kept 
f-afe until something further — unlike or like a 
last. Farewell. M. Fox. 

KORTEIGHT, Nov. loth, 1814. 

Miss Maria Pox : 

My Dear Girl : I have received your letter of 
the 10th October. Your patience, I discover, 
lias at last forsaken you. I can not say I am 
surprised at it, but rather wonder you have en- 
dured my strange humor so long. I fear my 
whimsical letters (though when written were not 
intended to disgust) have been rather calculated 
to estrange than secure your affections ; and am 
also apprehensive that the frequent disappoint- 
ments have had a like tendency. 

My promises have been so often made and re- 
newed, that I tliink another would bear no weight 
with j'ou ; and, there'bre, have not the boldness 
to communicate what (before I received your 
letter) I had in contemplation. 

I have been meditating no new scenes for en- 
joyment, nor do I enjoy a moment of present 



satisfaction. Amusements, recreations, have no 
charms for me, because I have no one — that is, I 
have not her whoso presence alone can give a 
relish to entertainments — to partake them with 
me. Separate pleasures are, for mo, no pleasures 
at all. 

Although my mind has by turns been harassed 
by doubts and fears, which were the occasion of 
those letters, the existence of which I so much 
deplore, yet my affection has imdergone no 
change, nor once varied from its point. Was I 
not ashamed to ask further indulgence, perhaps 
I could give reasons which yourself would not 
disdain to hear. But it can not be. You have 
been so long and so frequently perplexed with 
delays on my account, that my soul rises indig- 
nant at the thought of asking further. Three 
years ! it seems to me hke an eternity. 

If, then, you are determined to continue this 
correspondence no longer, not even till I see you 
again, (which would be in the spring,) you must 
at least write once more, and inlorm me of j'our 
final determination. Then, if j^ou say there must 
be an end, and you wish to have your letters 
committed to the flames, you must command me, 
audit shall be done; but there must be some- 
thing more than a bare request, or I can not 
obey. 

Must all our hopes be blasted ? Will affection, 
such as we have mutually professed, with the 
blessings of Heaven, be productive of no enjoy- 
ment ? Sincerity ! disinterested love ! where 
hast thou fled ? 

Young ladies in the ardency of their pursuits, 
and their peaceful security at home, can not make 
allowances for the perplexities of business to 
which we are liable in times when our country is 
convulsed with wars, and ourselves liable to be 
called for, at the will of our executives, to leave 
our homes and go to defend our country. My- 
self, though I did not go, was obliged to pay 
dear for the privilege of staying at home. 

Your last letter, I must take the liberty of tell- 
ing you, was exceedingly well composed. The 
style and arrangement I could not but admh'e. 
I am sorry you had to employ your pen upon so 
sorrowful a subject. 

Do not be cast down, but be cheerful ; for that 
is more becoming than either melancholy or ex- 
cessive gayetJ^ Who knows but after all this 
we may be happy ? Once more adieu. 

R. Little. 

I next copy some lines written for a friend of the 
lovers, from whose cori'espondenco I have thus far 
extracted, with a view to calling out some ideas 
relevant to my present purpose. They were 
from the pen of him who, in later years, became 
mine, by God's own institution — him in whose 
history I have been made to feel the truth which 
others read : " If, therefore, the light that is in 
thee be darkness, how great is that darkness ?" 

" Flora, the Goddess of Flowers, was elegantly 
drawn in embroidery, by a young lady in Con- 
necticut, as leaving her summer-house, to take a 
walk in the adjoining fields of flowers. On 
which occasion the following lines were written 
and communicated by her friend : 

" Behold ! young Flora leaves her green alcove, 
All over.'ipreacl with woodbines fresh and gay, 
"While airy pleasures dance, her head above, 
To charm the mistress to a longer stay. 



A MOTIIKIl's I'KACK OFKKUING. 





St 




• ■ ■ : I ; 1«. 


.1 ht-r caloi rviroBi. 

' ■■' • • '• " ■' • ^ no 


Uiry, or, p- 1 ■••d, 

WOUliI f.fti" . :itjr 

•. .1) w V. uixl 


\ 


' >in 8})u would 


.-*■•■.•" ■.• ■, A lioW<T.. 


\i i.-i 


Irmi iiviiiph u'Iraiicc — 


All • !>a- 
.'irii'd Ipjni n letter to faia tncnd about that 



As l> the uiiai) oi tier whu Urrir tlic scene. 



-tajr; 



.iiraj. 



' JCreo lo with man ; were one to rhoo«c on earth 

Tl,. I. ,i.r, .'■,: ■,'.....' lUL.I '!,, r.' I,. I i.lliw.l 



I think that what I Imru alrendy copied from 

till' iirmii- ri;': I lii'M. will allow you, that with 

t ) tmo merit, the parties 

' >n <■> walk and talk to- 

siK'h a result, 

in matters of 

\ " ' t I coii- 

out, dcs- 



of 



in to prevent t 

rt to heart. It n ■ mh- 

iuy own viow, where lay ^ tuada- 

in the foundation of the house into 

history was to become so inti- 



" Irama wna tl..-. oHo?t daughtornf u r.-]io. table 

fanner in t' M . i od 

5tiii \va<» T' r nativ(> "^i itvl 



»t>ly, and lu tii.'iUUi.l hvr m lui," ui>.-l'iii branches of 
lit"rntMr»^. ?!<'r mirvl \V4'» •>!•;•!>!>• niri rnpnM" of 



Dear Sir: I imairioo I can see tou strolling 

■ • •' ■ •' - ' ....-•- •..,^^^. 

et, 
. '- , 'en- 

ity ot soul, liiiii :«(<<», you 

can onjoy ; )rv ,o. You 

know my r- > you bo- 

Here it ? . ., if evor. 

"ion 
I 
. ... not 
.. >n a mo- 
or Mr. A , or uuy ouo lir^i- ihuu luv. liiil you 

evor ovj>Arifn'-« nny jIim't of the kind? If you 
1 me. All the satin- 

■1 in rcadinir Thom- 
.■,^... -..<-. i.;. I 11 11 .1 i.w 1.1 A swain: and that is 
no satisfaction, but a kind of 8ym])aihy. Adieu. 

Thus fcarioff her affictions wore gcttiii^^ •»• 
tranfjed from him, Aleidas resolved to make the 
fair Irama a formd visit, and learn, if be could, the 
situation of her mind. 

Ho acco' ■ ' . .V •■ .1 - 

ptirposc. ( 

was not n I.. ..„ 

bte hours, but c ild 

have avoided it i not 

coijlined him every aiuriiuou at ':en 
ho arrivod, there wa.'» a .vr>-.ine pnl 



queiieo uf liiu rwuil of his lir.^t 
a'tnolj no pnrtlcnlar hl.'jmp to !')■ 



liueuLcd t 
reader, bv 



of h 
kind I 
stand l.i^ 
suitable. I 





To say 

:! b" .1p- 




ui evury 
ts whirh V. 




d the mind of 



tor 

:i a 
.ke 
not 
•;iP. 
;!>e- 
uld 
ibe 
he 
A 

I. • N»W 

\- to call 

: 1 . she 

she fe;ut;d Al- 

! ; nrA a few 

■ther 

tot 

his 

ino 



..U when Lvr yi-ar.s W'Tl- 
apnv »'» 1>^ rnnkf'i n» on«» 



iho liberty 
to (jn I!, 







•aie 






...Q- 






•ck 


> •! bUo ViOulvl 


U- ; 


. .—i 


w.n, (0)0 di<l 


11. • 


lid 

ike. 
.to 
.or. 

i.ut 



She w.td nut wholly tUi^emublo oi Aic-idas' inten- was iiirlcd awuy, and Wa^i, ui iht course of tho 



30 



A mother's peace offering. 



evening's entertaiumeut, accused of being an in- 
truder. Sucb an accusation, coming from the 
object of his affections, was too mortifying to be 
calmly endured ; but as he had at all times the 
command of himself, lie let it pass without any 
seeming notice ; but not without a severer strug- 
gle within than can be easily painted. The even- 
ing passed. Alcidas walked home with Irama's 
sister, saw his rival conducted into the parlor, and 
took ins leave. When he got home he retired to 
his bed, but not to rest. He felt all the anguish 
M^hich disappointment and jealousy can give. 
The rankUng in his bosom could not be surpassed, 
but by 'the horrors of ghosts in the regions of 
eternal misery. Sleep did not visit liim to calm 
his disordered mind. At the break of day he 
heard riding by his successful rival ; he had fin- 
ished his night's collation of love, and taken his 
leave. 

Alcidas (who once hoped to gain the entire 
affection of Irama, and be the first and only one 
who should breathe sighs of adoration in her 
tender ear, who had hoped to encircle in his 
arms and fold to his enamored bosom a form that 
no one else had so caressed, and draw nectar 
from a lip whicli "had never been sighed on by 
any but him") was now almost in despair. One 
week only passed before another devotee came 
to offer up his devotion at the altar of the god- 
dess. His prayers also were heard. This was 

Mr. B , who had the good fortune to ingratiate 

himself into the good graces of Irama, and con- 
tinued his visits some time after those of his pre- 
decessor were rejected. It seemed as if she was 
intent on making a conquest of every heart. 

Alcidas all this while was drowned in grief. 
He possessed a certain spirit which forbade him 
to interfere in the contest for a heart which it 
appeared hundreds might be permitted to share. 

At length all was again calm to appearance. 
Orlando (for so I style the successful suppliant) 
had left the place and was residing at a consider- 
able distance ; though as it appeared afterwards, 
he had engaged to pay another visit to Irama, 
and went away without her knowledge under 
this engagement. This being unknown to Alci- 
das, he supposed that their addresses were all 
discountenanced by Irama, and by her rejected. 
Therefore, after a suitable time had elapsed, 
Alcidas, loth to give over his pursuit, concluded 
once more to wait on the charming Irama ; asked 
her if he might be permitted to spend a few hours 
in her company; she had no particular objec- 
tions; he thanked her, and the time was spent 
agreeably ; though in consequence of wliat had 
transpired, he was too much embarrassed to 
make a declaration of what ho most wished her 
to know. The second visit some small disclosure 
was made, though a partial one. 

A continuance of the visits was requested. 
She would grant one more. He was too gener- 
ous to ask why she said one more, knowing that 
if she put a stop to his addresses it would not be 
without a reason, and what that reason was, he 
was determined not to insist on her to communi- 
cate. But previous to the time appointed for the 
next interview, Orlando (who had then been ab- 
sent about six months) returned, and was again 
received into the favor of Irama ; had one inter- 
view, in the course of which he, after expressing 
his admiration of the charmer, asked her if she 
would marry him. 



Irama (who in the course of eight months had 
received the addresses of three different suitors) 
was amazed at the idea of marriage ; a propo- 
sition of that nature shocked her ; it would seem 
she had never before thought of it, and knew not 
what reply to make. But being urged by him 
who had now got the complete ascendency over 
her heart, she consented to give him an answer 
in two weeks. She was laboring in her mind 
what answer to give her adored Orlando, when 
she received a letter from Alcidas, upbraiding 
her for the admission of another suitor while she 
was receiving visits from him ; that if she was 
under obligation to Orlando, she did wrong in 
receiving his visits without letting him know that 
such engagement existed ; that he was too proud 
to contend with a rival ; that the regard he had 
professed for her was founded on sincerity, and 
therefore would not bear to be trifled with ; that 
he should still be pleased to continue his addresses 
if he could without interruption, but could not 
think of sharing affection with another, and de- 
sired a line in answer from her the next morning. 
She did not take the trouble of answering, and 
for what reason she better knew than Alcidas. 

Poor girl — she was waiting with anxiety for 
the two weeks to expire, when her happiness was 
to be crowned by jiromising her hand in mar- 
riage to the doting Orlando. But alas ! the 
time expired, and the youth did not appear. She 
never saw him more. He left the place again, 
and after a while she heard he was married. 
"Who can conceive the mortification of Irama 
when the time agreed on was passed, and her 
lover did not come? She alone who felt it can 
tell. 

-Alcidas, not knowing what had transpired be- 
tween the two lovers, again called on Irama. It 
was a week after the time set for her to give an 
answer to Orlando. She appeared, as must be 
supposed, low-spirited, and gave Alcidas a cold 
consent to spend a few hours in his company, in 
the course of which the following conversation 
took place : 

" You did not think proper to give an answer 
to my letter the other day, Irama." 

"No, I thought it not worth while, though I 
don't know but I should have written if there 
had been a convenient opportunity of sending tlio 
next morning." 

" Did you notice a sheet of letter paper I sent 
by your pa, done up in a roll with his ?" 

'• Yes, and knew what it meant." 

" And then would not write?" 

" No." 

" I have been sorry I wrote it, thinking it was 
not my business to dictate to you wiiat and how 
much company to keep ; but you ought to be 
your own judge, or if at a loss ask your ma." 

" I thought you would repent." 

" Though I am still of the same mind respect- 
ing the contents that I then was, I would never 
wish to keep company with a young woman 
while she is receiving the addresses of another. 
What answer should you have sent mo in case 
you had written ?" 

" I do not know ; it was such a tiling it would 
be difficult to answer it at all. I would not have 
you think I am going to be confined to one ; I 
never was." 

This drew a sigh from the bosom of Alcidas. 
He sat for some time without speaking, and was 



A MOTHKKS PEACE OFFEIUN*; 



11 



ost in lliouffht TTo at looRth wwumod tho con- I Provlouii however, to hU departure, on tlio 



it iiii(rtit 



tllttl lii<nlf<iil it' MIU was illrt, li 

hiT. !wi'l wnt">li "vor li'«r witli 



Tears wo 



'^iutl U> 
: it even 
■\ M.iw on luT wr' 
.nilent, nnd him- 

inc<l invoh 
vcric, Alcii! 



ll.cif 



tlio door, nnd as ho was oUicr ~ 
i'.irewfll, Irnma" .soonuHl t. ■ 

in her eyes, observing I BiRliinsr on 



/ 

i 
.0 

a 



fioinlpd lovo ail 



ij, and l-A\ dlaap- 
female prido tlio 



aho hiid iriiii-il M . 



••li Willi ili 
1. wna tit 



r- 

..3 

::0 

.of 

i<uiiluriiig o.i uifliiiidioly. lio v.iia ro- 
I'V thf fair onp with miioli wi'mina: apita- 

■•■'.' -led 

:it 
i- 



lioU lUld na 



.id ov'ur hiiu. 

• 1 this fif^emooa, 

.d 

a 

3 



.... I )f mini I 
very part 



wojj vcrv 
would uwt 



Ik' lirkd t<>r.sai\cii iir 
(wlmf sb" nifrht 



■r eiilirtly. T 



profusion, 
to draw fnv 

thousand wdfIcLx ; 
him ; and tho 9-.V' 
tiun;natod by mi.\:ii;; w,::: 
for II I ono who •ko'ivt.'-' t 
promises which he docs ii<>i i;ir i 
>ireath<? a breath but what is foul. 



^■olwtu wliicii hu wuuld 



.t. 



was : "It has bo«n so this long time." This, ho 



12 



A MOTH Eli ri PEACE OFFERIXG. 



was convinced, was an untruth, and says : " Has it 
not been done since yesterday ?" Irama, abaslied, 
knowing tliat ho did not credit what she had said, 
8ud fearing the consequences of persisting in the 
deception, answered: "I call that long ago." 

Now was the mind of Alcidas put to the tor- 
lure. Now had tlie time come to put in practice 
bis resolve of the evening before. He hesitated. 
He sat awhile motionless and confounded. His 
judgment, his reason, and his sense of honor so- 
licited his immediate departure. But Love, all- 
powerful Love, assisted by a few tender words 
from the charmer — these entreated him to stay, 
and these prevailed. 

From this time, Alcidas knew not peace of 
mind. He found the object of His aflections was 
not his real friend, although she professed the 
warmest attachment. He found she had endeav- 
ored to practice a deception upon him ; and, to 
carry it into effect, had, in his opinion, been guilty 
of telling a falsehood ; and yet, such was bis 
weakness, that he could not withstand the torrent 
of love. He had no resolution of his own that 
was not subservient to the tender passion. 

His attention and their intimacy have ever 
since been continued, though it has now been 
several years; and several promises of marriage 
have in the time been made — times set — but in- 
stead of fulfillment has been delay after delay. 
Her conduct has been such as Alcidas could not 
approve ot^ — she has dealt in mysteries and prac- 
ticed deception. She has seemed to try to obtain 
liim rather by stratagem than by merit ; and he 
has continued so long that he finds it difficult to 
recede. 

Irama, a while since, fioding she could not well 
avoid its being known to him, informed liim of 
what had passed between Orlando and herself, as 
has been before related, namely, his request to 
marry her, and her promise to give him answer 
in two weeks — and added that he would never 
pro.aper. 

Wliat will be the result of this long-continued 
intimacy is impossible to tell, but the prospects 
at present are bj' no means favorable to a happy 
union. 

Had Irama's conduct, when first entering into 
the world, been watched and guided by a discreet 
mother; had she been taught to practice freedom 
instead of craft, and propriety instead of indis- 
cretion, then she might have been an ornament 
to society, and the happy companion of the then 
happy Alcidas." 

The above transcribed article is without date ; 
but its face shows that it was written late in the 
day of the courtship which drew it forth, and 
probably during a season when the author's mind 
was ''harassed with doubts and fears," or "bor- 
dering on melancholy." 

The fact that it ivas vrrUfen, and kept in parcel 
with the correspondence alluded to, and a part of 
which I have already copied, during the married 
life of her who was the object of so much solici- 
tude, tells to the wise observer, what the author 
could not see in himself, that the " all-powerful 
Love" to which he yielded, had greater respect 
10 the peace of the single bosom it then moved, 
than to that of hers it sought to win. 

1 can say in behalf of (the so-called) Irama, 
that her accuser admitted to me, that she ever 
insisted that she would not have consented to 
marry Orlando, had he called for her answer. 



I will also add here, v/hat this same Alcidas 
stated to me verbally, namely, that v>'hen he 
asked her father's consent to the marriage, he told 
her father that he did not expect to bo happy 
with his daughter. But so long had the union 
been contemplated, that to go forward was 
thought better than to recede. 

The marriage was cc4ebrated on the 6th day of 
July, 1815, and Mr. Little soon after came to this 
town, (Sheffield, Mass.,) and bought out (as the 
expression is) his cousin Amasa Wright, mer- 
chant. 

To this place he removed his bride, and here 
the earth- work of her married life was performed ; 
here her matrimonial joys and sorrows partaken : 
and here she calmly met her summons to go forth 
and meet the heavenly Bridegroom. 

She died of consumption, leaving, with a so- 
licitude none but a mother knows, six children, 
four sons and two daughters. Three sons had 
]3receded her to the spirit-world. I was not a 
guest at her house during her life, but had met 
her elsewhere, and she hud impressed me as be- 
ing a perfect pattern of womanhood. In no other 
person, was I ever made to see more clearly the 
true beauty of an evidently meek and quiet spirit. 

I next perform the painful duty of copying two 
later articles from the pen of Mr. Little, found in 
the bundle I have already opened. One, and I 
presume the earlier of the two, is without date. 
It reads as foUows : 

Dear Sir : Inasmuch as you request my 
opinion upon this subject, I will endeavor to give 
it, although I fear it will be done in rather a bung- 
ling manner. "Women, I think, many of them, 
are apt to be very inconsiderate, and oftentimes 
act without just motives, and without regard of 
what consequences may follovv. They will in- 
dulge their foolish whims, and persevere in so 
doing when they must know (if they are capable 
of reasoning) that what they are doing is preju- 
dicial to their own happiness, and must inevitably 
prove fatal to the welfare and happiness of their 
tamily. What nameless propensity is it tliat 
draws them on? Alas! I know not. 

They get married, mean their husbands shall 
love and adore them ; why, then, do they not en- 
deavor by every means in their power to make 
themselves agreeable to them, and bend their 
affections ? A child would not expect by dash- 
ing snow upon the fire to increase the flame. 
They can expect no happiness in the mairied 
state without the esteem and tender regard 
of their husbands. Wbj', then, do they not try 
to retain them ? They have the means in their 
hands, and still let those means lie dormant, and 
tamper with others to bring about their purposes, 
which they have no power to use to any effect. 
When a man marries, he takes upon himself a 
very great incumbrance. This is the case iu 
general, let his wife be what she may. Why, then, 
ought he not in reason to expect some partial 
compensation? What compensation, then, does he 
receive whose wife, at the first small error she- 
discovers in his conduct, will take miff, and re- 
fuse to speak or sit with him at table ? Who is 
almost continually out of humor because she 
imagines she has not deference enough paid her? 
Sometimes grumbling, sometimes pouting for days 
together, seldom ever speaking good-naturedly. 
Who scorns to do him so much honor as to pro- 
nounce his name with her lips ; despises to aak 



A MOTMKRS I'KAC'E OKKERINO. 



13 



^ any thing of iiiin as a favor 
much liko condfflconaion. \\ 
aaj, ha.s i\ rriHO with H<ich a wii* . 

to bo iri'!';«'.rirni», pr'iHt'n', nrA >• 



^d to the house two weokfi br a 

r iriil !i/';<-. I"/, it ii^w l'< tt!ng 

ii<aL 

'.• know 

L Act 

- hia 

..la 



8(m) Homt-tl 



It to the 



'jO 

of 

■;.y 

ita 

■ nt 

h 



nts.x, ti wi'iiYiiiii' hi« retom with a Btnilo of «»ni- 
plaocncy ? In >•!. 
perl lier to use \ ; 



wile, hu IS •: '. .'inil must spend bis daya i ^^^'^ '•''* ►• 

in misorj «• ^rol, ' preastd ton 

A man w!.o L. „-.:.. s the world with 
."Ihinir. and i*" dtt^irous v( ri-mc t<i ho r 



t i-ave them 
Tf:f» rpfts-in 



Mondrtv Mom. 

' ' ■ 1 let bim 

Ih iihe 

oh I mj 

She i« 

T %rould 



I ■ ■ -■ • ■•■ ; ■. -■ 

ol ou<«incH<t which ho haa almoat daily to en- 
mm'cT. '^tioiild 8ometimc9 dniw a gloim over 
' Mco, or n coutrnctinn tipun liia brow. 

'i ■or with a pi-^rver-'p. unxociiible wife, 

i-th. Hgmusi 
—put on the 

£-1.. . ■■ ■■•- I -■• •■■■TUt 

fliuk I • r-r 

can a as 

mined timt of in - : d family 1 Tiicre- 

fnrf I "ty -he ni-i> ■ y and regardless of 

<• -■ or si,..' w o:M endeavor, at leaat, to 

J r own happineaa. 

I'i.u oiiivf article alluded to is a letter to a sis- 
ter of Mn». I.ittl" aud reads Ihua: 

Sunday Rre, 19 Oct. 1831. 
Mn>. \ Palmer: J^lster ErstCK : I 

am loo uii.Vcll to write, but I have a favor to 
aak of von, and •<» mn hnpo in hich heaven, I 

cl ■ ■■••■■ ■ . . • 



I ^ ,..>;. . r .' 

Till uio uil — aiid Ha buoa ad vuu imve rvad this, 
write, and let not a night paaa befor*» yr-M hsv« 
it mailed. S ly not there is no > • 
•end. Hire S'lmo one to go on p'lrj' 
tomorrow will do as well; wo ku'A 
to-morrow will bring forth. And if i' 
npvi r be in my power to reward you, I , 
a may. 

.h and the gmre. my denr »f*tef. nr»» rfiH 
u.i'.Lcd. You hav. 
Uuth of this by ; 

mother. I have air^i u ^t'/ 1 it. lu.n kim-.v wmu 
it i?. But there are other aftlictiona more cruel 
Ihnn death. 

I cao not write particulars now. Lucius has 



This letter, be who wrote it irform«H n* was 

■r>e 



-- ii- 



ttteiy to her. 

This first visit, without her husband, to the 
home and scenes of hor childhood, was her last. 

Her husband's opinion was. that aho took a 

cold on ' . : ' ' ii.e 

wear • or 

eighty; ..... ., ., ; ty, 

caused a tatal disease to begin its ravages in her 
syBtem. 

In sixteen months from the time of her last 
visit to tho home of her birth, was her rit^tdal of 
life completely demolished : her v ' life 

finished : and on Sabbath, Feb. : < r 

m-" • — • ■ ■ ■- !- ' •■■ - ■ • ■" •■ , I.. i!s 

t that, as 

. .ird our 
1 pa^iior, ^Mr. Braiiloru) deliver a funeral 
., after his own nhlr m-ita-cr. ov^r the 
loiUu of one into v. . > i 

enter, (although i- ) 

how my heart then in'ai lo un.- w,i.iKii' lu "i me 
poet: 

'■ gwret I* (bo iiccnc whon Chrinti <"• '■- 
>Vlieo boljr aouU retire to rest. 

' ' ■ ■ -•- h 

:.t 

of 
w t 

«• I s 

s'wi be 
* It is 



<I i shall ret>. 

i-::^ ..p --..: .. -, and ever!.-. ...^ j 

upon ihoir head: they shall obtain g 



14 



A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 



and joy ; and sorrow and mourning shall flee 
away." This was as a letter from a Friend, whom 
having not seen, she had loved, and who had 
gone to his Father's house to prepare a mansion 
lor her, that he might come and receive her unto 
himself. That he did not leave her comfortless, 
I have the fullest assurance from personal obser- 
vation. The May before her death, accident 
threw me into her society for an hour or two, 
and on returning to my father's house, I re- 
marked: "I have not so much enjoyed a con- 
versation upon the subject of personal experi- 
mental religion, for years past, ps in my inter- 
view this afternoon with Mrs. Little." ' 

Neither Mrs. Little nor her husband were in 
connection with a Christian church. They were 
regular in their attendance upon public worship, 
and adorned the community in which they moved, 
hj well-ordered lives and pure conversation. 

It was told me, that Mr. Little, on the afternoon 
of the day his wife had been buried, invited two 
deacons of the church into bis home, and asked 
them to engage in prayer, after which he himself 
led in audible prayer. This is the fir.st reported 
instance, to my knowledge, saying of him, as 
of one of old : "Behold he prayetb." Did the 
angel just emerged from its clay so soon beckon 
lim to follow? And must ho enter upon new 
fcenes of struggle and of strife with whatever 
should oppose his progress to a long-sought Eden 
of rest ? Let us trace his course, and form our 
judgment from whatever is discoverable by the 
way. I had spent the winter of 1835-G in 
Egremont in the family of an aunt, taking the 
duties of her eldest daughter to give the daughter 
opportunity to go from home to attend school. 
This I did, believing ihat health demanded a 
longer suspension from the labors of teaching 
than I had secured for the Lst five years. In 
early spring Mr. Little sent a rf quest that I 
would teach the school in the district of his resi- 
dence. Soon after I commenced said school, I 
boarded in his family, where I saw the truth of 
what rumor had before told, namely, a lack of 
salutary discipline, in a family where the selfish 
passions were strong and active. 

Mr. Little told me, while boarding in his fam- 
ily, he would be glad to have me board there 
through the season, that his two daughters, one 
eight years of age, and the other twelve, might 
have the benefit of my counsel. But I perceived, 
during the two weeks of my stay, that no counsel 
which opposed their wi-hes was of any avail, 
other than to make them more determintd in 
their course ; and as I could not well expre-js 
this opinion to the ruler of the liouse, I passed on 
in my accustomed way, dividing the burden and 
the benefits of boarding the teacher, among all 
those upon whom I had claim. A woman of 
good abilities, who had reared a family of her 
own, had charge of household affairs from before 
Mrs. Little's death until a mother-in-law was in- 
stated. She had long been in the practice of 
caring and doing for the sick from house to house, 
but said she had never before met an instance 
whore the man was so much a stranger in his 
own house, or took so little cognizance of the 
proceedings there, either by children or servants, 
as Mr. Little. I mention this, to show that it 
v:slS a field more than ordinarily open to a class 
of workers styled " busybodies in others' mat- 
ters." 



Now, I am not going to stone this clasp, lest, 
in so doing, I hurt myself; but I do feel called 
upon to show to others how God hath rebuked 
this sin before my e3'es. In doing this, I shall 
be under the necessity of telling of faults com- 
mitted at home, but outside of my own house, 
among my own townsmen and townswomen. 
My remarks will be as a " bow at a venture," 
because I am so fortunate as not to have had 
named to me, one of the "cloud of witnesses" 
against me. 

In the prosecution of my work, I may seem to 
occupy the position of one bearing witness of 
self; a thing which, even in the case of the Sou 
of God, is not to be received as true, unless cor- 
roborated by other testimony. Like that divine 
personage, I shall need have recourse to the 
works which I have done, and to the Father's 
bearing witness of me. Not that I have wrought 
miracles, or that God hath, by miracle, interposed 
in my behalf. I conceive that the recorded mira- 
cles of God's word were designed to substantiate 
the irv.th of that vjord, and to show the nature of 
the works which that word is designed to effect 
(though in a more slow and gradual way than by 
miracle) wheresoever it ia trusted. I believe 
that, when the beloved John had finished the 
book containing that word, the age of mii'acles 
was past. But the age when God shall give hia 
Holy Spirit to them that ask him, will only be 
finished when time is no more. 

I believe that the Holy Spirit is to the soul of 
man what the atmosphere is to his body ; that 
the latter is given, unsought, to mortal man ; that 
the new-creative influences of the former, to him 
who has come to an age for doing business with God 
(so to speak,) is only had by asking, with suit- 
able deference to the Proprietor, and to the busi- 
ness rules he has laid down. Therefore, if any 
who shall feel disposed to peruse this letter, are 
rejecting Moses and the prophets, my argument 
is not with tJiem, inasmuch as such would not 
believe, were one to arise from the dead and 
address them. 

But that I may, if possible, assist yourself and 
others of my friends who admit the Bible as a 
whole to be the voice of God to man, to read 
with me the truth, that / U7n blessed because / 
have truiied, I proceed to the second chapter 
of my epistle, which will contain the second 
courtship and marriage of my physically stronger 
self, with its results, so tar as time has yet 
unfolded these results. 



CHAPTER II. 

SECTIOK I. 

Ix this, as in the former chapter, I shall have 
recourse to transcribing from written records 
providentially in my possession. 

I will state in this place, that my marriage to 
Mr Little was celebrated at my father's house, 
on Wednesday the 12th of April, 1837, at six p.m., 
in the presence of some fifty or sixty friends 
assembled on the occasion. It was one of April's 
brightest days; not a cloud intercepted the sun's 
cheering rays throughout our visible heavens 
The air was balmy, and hearts were gladdened 
at the near approach of a new resurrection to 



A MCyrilEHS PEACK OFFERING. 



15 



life, whicli should clothe Uie cnrth wilh freshnoM 
and beauty, although then onljr robed wilh 

•* \Vllhor«<l Ic«Tci >nil flowrrleM iUlki ;" 

itiii.H hightvoing by cotiinuit tlio loveliooai of all 
abfjvo. 

'= - — ^••- - ' ■ '■ ivo boon 

lit iimio, 

.,„;, . , :i U.» the I 

but, liial what wus H|>okon out uf 

I CO of tt)0 lionrt duriIl^' lliis iin|KirUi:il ' 

(xiioJ, should bo r|>okoD tliruudili the medium of 

iho pen railier than iho tonirue, when iho )>uru<-s > 

each other faoo to 

oxceptiou. 1q thin 

- of 183i5, Mr. Lilllo 

;r pa-jtor,) to m'licit 

ttiu uuijiiik)! ot hiniHvll nud lady in reference to 

hi* duty tn hi'* family. They udviaed him to 

I. and fpoko of tnjself as in their 

j UeU to till the " vncant ciiair" in hia 

'■• ' • ! to doing good. Of 

r I hud uoceplod the 
c - 1 council, lioing ro- 

turui-d tVuin dcuooI one attomooii, and scaled 
with n circle of ladiea in the parlor uf Mrs. Uar- 
V .Vugujila, jouugeitt ditughler of Mr. 

I to the dojr, and handed too the fol- 

ium ;i :.- U' >tf ; 

SiiErriELD, Friday, 12ih Aug. 183G. 

^' ■' vs: I liare aoen your paronls to-day. 

.. -d me to inf>rHi you that they expect 

coni;'iiny to-morrow, (Mr. Ciiriia and lady from 

tiio \Vt;:<l,) and would like to have you come 

> ■ ■ ■■■' '■■"'■■ '•■■ " "■■■'• n.u aa you are will- 

^ lo bo considerably 
fiiXH^'cd lu iii<i work, I engaged to see you 

bOM)'.'. 

Itihi.-* arrangement meet your approbation, bo 
k:;iil tiio'u-ii to 1ft me know by Augusta where 
you will I.', and what litno you wi.xh to go. 
I am, moat respectfully, 

R. LiTTLK. 

I did not send word by Augusta, and next 

morning Augusta aimo again, bringing word 

that her brother Ilobert wfiuld take me to my 

:. r school, a: ' .'.nt was 

A few i: -net Mr. 

......o 1 WM b.>.i.>.i..^ .....>, .,.ih some 

-it embarraaament, apologized for the note 

I iiad not opportunity to explain, as I dt-aired, 
and therefore penned the following note: 

Sept lat, 1S36. 

Mn. LiTT" ' •■ ■>-■••■'■ •' -t apology was 
not liiul I..I. ■ ray silence at 

liio liiu^ sp ;ig. 

Augusta wont to piay whiio I was .speaking 
with Iho ladies prcirnt I wailotl t-i d<r: !-> nt 
what timo i ■ 
and found - 



ng. 



circunisiances unatr which u:i i x\ 
ity or au act of kindness will bo i: 



have aceii it ho in relation to othera, and wiah to 
avoid o<"c*Hion f<>r r. fii,>rK- 

I am Horry to n: isibie of my obligt- 

tioim to friends n:. : '^ 

I'loaM overlook wi<a: I'T wrong. 

!'.» - )uni, 

L. J. RoT.s. 

Th. - toachorn 

to b.' days of 

each w ,., >^ • i...^/»h. 

iiig six days of one week, ii xt. 
It was my cuttom to go to i; . »y, 
a'lor sclux)', every second wwk.. My Uthor 
came for me on Friday ; and while he was mak- 
ing (tome purchases at ilr. Litth'a store, Mr. L 
handed hiu) the following note: 

Miss Roys: I hop© for the happiness of see- 
ing you at your father'n, lo-morrow. at al>oul nin- 

o'clock A.M. 

2d Sept. 

L. called, accordinsr to appointment I met 
him in tl." ' . • ; him into the 

parlor, and told him that 

if he was .^ iiing privately 

with me, I could then '. to a written 

CDrrespoudence. He j> .ted, and with- 

drew. 

That written correspondence will now occupy 
several pa'^m of my letter. I deem it the intro- 
duction to many, very many important pa«.sag<e8 
of my life's history. 

SHErriELn, .Sat Eve, lOlh .Sept '36 
Miss Laiiu J. Roys: I take this occa- 
sion, my esteemed friend, to reply t3 the few 
lines which I receised from your hand. I am 
sensible that I ought to have anewcrcd sooner, 
and did attempt it the evening of the day 
on which I received the note; but finding my 
.self somewhat disctimposcd, was oV - '' ' -i.st. 
Since that lime, you know I li;i : )ni 

homo. You speak of apology be _ ... -,iry 
with regard to your not replying to my note. 
I do not think it was so, neither did I wish 
or expect it afler knowing the circumstance*. 
But, inasmuch as you have ihoueht dirter- 
ently, and havi- - ' - f ''.,]]j 

accept it in full f .id 

imairined to bo . . . ■'. . v.. . .1 

.sujipi 9«d it would tiud you at Mr ; s; 

hut as I knew of no dis-poailion ii: >t- 

hood to m ike remarks, of which l >i)n 

of your name and mine was likely ' - ib- 

joct, I thought there would be n-' in 

sending it to you anv wlic-ro. wn 

w' ^ ' - •' • • ■ •■ "• >ve 

is 
t; . icr 

some • 'y 

even ■ 'i s, 

it 
i I 

.r note I must s-iy I 

1* i: ■ *' I am sorry 

'. > Cnends and 

i to mo, I sup- 



16 



A mother's peace offering. 



pose you meant to include me amongst the num- 
ber of friends and benefactors. 

The first I acknowledge to its fullest extent, 
the other I as entirely disclaim ; for what have I 
done to he considered as your benefactor, or 
v/hat I have ever done as a friend to impose ob- 
ligation on you, I am unable to conceive. If I 
thought you capable of insincerity, I should be 
inclined to allege it to that. Had friendly ser- 
vices been required on your behaF, mine would 
have been given to any extent the occasion might 
have called for, and with the greatest pleasure 
But I well knew that you needed not the aid of 
friends, but that your merit and reputation were 
a sufScient passport to any place you might choose 
to occupy as teacher within the circle of your 
acquaintance. Therefore, you will readily per- 
ceive, that what exertion I used to secure your 
valuable services to our district, partook more of 
selfishness than of friendship or benefaction. I 
will here say, that whoever is of opinion that I 
was on that occasion actuated by any motives 
other than the benefit of my children and the dis- 
trict at large, are under total misapprehension. 
Permit me also to say, that the thoughts with 
which I have of lato been so deeply impressed, 
had then no existence. Their origin is of later 
date. My course for a few weeks past has been 
unfortunate. I would gladly collect all the errors 
I have committed in that time, and present them 
for forgiveness. But where shall I present them ? 
I can not believe they are registered against me 
in heaven. The Great Judge of all looks at the 
heart ; and I can find no traces of them there. 
Where, then, shall I lock, but to her whom I 
have otfended ? Take them, then, dear madam ; 
'tis my only alternative. Take them ; call them 
the result of iveakness, o1 indiscretion^ of misjudg- 
ing, ofdisorderedimaginaiion; any thing but a will- 
ingness to injure your feelings ; and if you can find 
it in your heart to forgive, then forgive, and let 
them, if possible, pass into the vortex of forgetful- 
ness, where they may be no more called up to irri- 
tate afresh the lacerated feelings of their unhappy 
perpetrator. But if not, if they are too gross or of 
too deep a dye to be forgiven, let me retain them as 
a sad memento of mental depression or misguided 
judgment. That I have degraded myself much 
in your esteem, I have no doubt. It, can not 
well be otherwise. But if I can profit from the 
past, and be enabled to act more discreetly for 
the future, the unpleasant lesson may not be 
wholly lost. 

I am, dear madam, with much respect, your 
friend in truth and sincerity, 

R. Little. 

P.S. — In communicating your thoughts to me, 
I hope you will be very plain ; for I esteem no 
friend more highly than one who will point out 
all my faults and correct all my errors. 

Saturday morning, Sept. iTth, 1835. 

Mr. L ; Perhaps the expression in my 

note to which you object, implied, or appeared 
to imply, more than I intended. I certainly think 
myself afraid to be insincere, (not incapable.) 
My idea was this, thus far in life I have been 
greatly aided and benefited by the kindness or 
fkvorable opinion and confidence of the respect- 
able and influential. Many such do I feel under 
obligation to respect, (nothing more,) and it was 



the idea that my management had the appear- 
ance of disrespect that caused my disquiet, and 
made me think apology needfal. Owing to a 
concurrence of fortunate circumstances, (and not 
to superiority in me,) my course as teacher has 
been comparatively prosperous. I have ever 
felt my dependence here, and have not been un- 
mindful of any influences which have contribut- 
ed to my usefulness or enjoyment in this employ. 

You are aware, Mr. Little, that my acquaint- 
ance with you has been almost wholly limited 
to your performr.nce of the offices of examining 
teachers and schools ; and here I supposed my- 
self considerably indebted to you, sir, (whether 
mistaken or not.) I was not disposed to think 
your note an indication of a design to pay me 
any particular attention ; and when I afterwards 
learned that you had become thus disposed, I 
was surprised and somewhat embarrassed. I 
still think that, upon further reflection, you may 
see and acknowledge it best to withdraw such 
attention. If any thing in your course needs 
forgiveness, I am so ignorant as not to know it, 
consequently there is nothing unforgiven. I am 
far from imputing every thing to eiror or faidt 
which does not happen according to my choice 
of things. 

In matters, the consequences of which are im- 
portant and lasting, duty to yourself and family 
demands (does it not ?) that you be guided by 
sober reason and correct judgment. I refer to 
the expression, " disordered imagination," as 
used by yourself 

Should you further communicate to me, I have 
one request to make, which is, that you neither 
spend time nor pains to bestow praise. (Censure 
where you think it needful.) If it be true that 
I am weak enough to be flattered, 'tis a truth 
which I am unwilling to admit. For five years 
past I have especially sought for some attain- 
ments in self-knowledge, and to form a proper 
estimate of human character and actions, as well 
as of human life and happiness. I pronounce 
with the poet : 

"There's no perfection here below." 

My own heart teUs me my frailties; my con- 
science reproaches me with my faults. Tuere is 
none but comparative good here — good, in com- 
parison with others, or with what migh', be. I 
love my friends, and rejoice in view of their ex- 
cellencies ; but still beheve I am not, and do not 
wish to be, blind to their imperfections. Many 
of them, I believe, rank among the best ; but 
none in whom (from particular acquaintance) I 
do not discover errors and even faults. 

I had thought of asking you to excuse me 
from replying in full to yours until I leave 
school, as I experience a kind of exhaustion 
after being long in school, which makes it neces- 
sary for me to confine my mental efforts mostly 
to the duties of school, but have more leisure to- 
day than I anticipated, being disappointed of 
company. 

As for holy time, I neither employ it in wait- 
ing or transmitting letters of business or plea- 
sure. 

Accommodate yourself in relation to answer- 
ing this, and you will oblige 

Tour friend, 

L. J. Roys. 



A MOTUKKS PEACE OFFKKING. 



i: 



SiiErriKLD, Sept nth, 1836. 
I'KAH Madam: Am il-' i"". m uow near at 
1 .III 1 when you nro U> i fn>m your ar- 

(I ii'iH oari'i", I ftviiil in\ - r kind p'jrmw- 

•■loii to oorrenpoinl iijkju u jtulijci-'l of Uiu moet 
vital iiii[)ortniir« to luvMeir, nnd oiiu which 1 tioiH) 
'.•..'■;,■. I ' • ill yoti. 

whnleviT of liappi- 
i. T,. ti.u irmu-riuily 
-•< of jou 
.. ; to Ix?- 

coiue iny I'oiiipiiiituii, uiy L«>*i)iii-ifieiiiJ, and lo 
Hhsre Willi m<< whHt»-v«r of enjoy moM lile liaii to 
giTi". I ha . ' i you ill hi(?li e^teem fur 

your many ^ of charnct'-r : Hiid you 

now have Ui, i.—i i. ii'ier ntul nnVi-lionale fi- 
gard. I lltid ihal I r.ui nol bo luippy without 
you, and to make yon Hoslmll !>« thoirreal object 
of my life. In cjwti" my j>ro[)o«nl niti'l your up- 
probalioii, I fiel nH-sured thai ihix opprecaivo un- 
UMHinesji, this fpvorish niixiely which now almost 
titiniiitifl nie. will ccuse, and that I t>hall bo moro 
worthy your reganJ. 

I do not know that it is necessary for mo to 
say any It.inK inoru at present. I believe the 
pn)po-';il i^ lairly Ptated, and your reply will de- 
leni.ine wlitliier or not the subject shall bo fur- 
ther pursued. I shall await your reply with in- 
tenaa ituxiety, and bopo you will not long delay. 

With much respect, I am most devotedly 
youry, Ualpk Littlk. 

Miss Lalra J. Roys. 

SiiEiriELn, 22d Sepl. 1836. 
My Dfar Madam: That I foniStrij had some 
agency with oth»rs of more in!!'»«r!f" in callmg 
your II . 'W, and 0*' . our cha- 

racter I think, u; i. is not 

unliktl . II ■ r/un'.->tance i.u . , l-'-i i'rom my 
mind U!itil ri'-jillod by your remark.*, or I should 
nol haw (.xpr'-ssed my -c If as I did. I supposed 
you had rt foreoce more particularly to the part I 
took in securiti.ic your aervices last spring to our 
district. 

Ity your beinir incapable of insincerity, I 

■ ' " ' t-) your principle*. 

■ for errors, I have 

I. : . . ._. •- ., ... ..orwhich I .supporied 

had the otloct of disturbing in any degree the 

trami'iillity of your min<l, or of interrupung the 

even t-nor of your way. Farther than that I 

imi nr.t .s. tisible Uiat I have strayed fur from the 

■ ' f rectitude; and as you hhv you know of 

s' i:> niy course that nce(ls forgiveness, I 

:-''"v<"l fr>m much anxiety ; ihoi;i,'h yet I 

I t. •■ r . '. that any thinp shoul I have 
( . i III ii-.ordance with your "choi.o of 
;:.:■'." I will endeavor to explain what I 

II • i.i by " d""ordered imagination." 

1: .- cif mind in which every real or 

"* '.J'! • niapni6ed by the iniaxiniiioi 

to :i :,! i-L ; . i,'. is if not unpardonable oiTnfiiw. 
By Ihi.s I have sufTored m'lch. 

I am well aware that duty to myself and 
family demands that I bo guided by sober 
reason and correct judgment in all matters, the 
coiisotiuenees of which are lo be important and 
la,-;tiii^;. Constant and deep reflection up<m tins 
has boen the chief employment of my mind, and 
ha.s weighed heavily there. R. L. 

The two articles last copied were banded me 
2 



by X(r. Littin as I wan aUiut leaving for homo .a 
tb0 expiruliun of my term of ivhcjol. Uelievlng 
that I ha<l DOW arrived at a point where I needed 
to ai>k advii-e, I, as wsh my rustom when in 
di'Ubt rt-garding the boiler way forme to pllr^ue, 
hel apart a ecHMun (or private liif^tmir and prayer 
' ■' ' ■ ' ' I do my 

1 ily att 

iij ..I , .. ...-. I.. , .: . .^aw thia 

c<>un<e coniinended by my .Maf>ltr in hiuven; 
but now the object was of ^inh vn«l oor.soquonee, 
that I felt oonstraintid to l!x the time for waiting 
upon or before Uod to two consecutive diiys — 
S.iiurday and Snbbuth afVer my return home. 
I h«<l, a fiw years before, been aoliciud to Ink© 

tlio plrtce ('fa dcp't""'- -^ ..,..ii . r ...,.i i ...i ,^^ 

I'uT as to i-fok liou l- 

Ud the case to ni;. lid 

not oppoMe directly, aaid iliat Itiat lixi^d my |)ur- 
poso lo decline. I now fell to believe that the 
counsel of my parents would, under <Jod, lead 
me to decide according lo his holy wil!. My 
mother only said : " It would be a groat under- 
taking, and you best know whether you are 
ready for it." After having,' atk< "i <• u-j^.I of 
One whose promise is, " My grace . !^ 

thee," I did not see it my duly to !■ ; !y 

because the undertakicg was groat, aiid replied 
ns follows : 

Monday Eve, lialf-pn.si nine, 
•JiUhSept. is:{6. 

Mr. Little : I have this evening re-porused 
the pii[>er8 you gave me, (the first time nnc« I 
left yonr house,) and presented the subject lo 
my parents, who, as they have ever done, wish 
me to be guided by my judgment and feelings in- 
dependent of any other influence*. 

I know, .=iir, that duty to yon demands that I 
decide in relation to the subject of our corre- 
spondence. 

I would that I folt more decided than I do. 
When I consented to correspond with you, such 
consent implied that I thought it not improbable 
I should be disposed to favor such a proposal as 
you have now made. Kor mo to havo done ns 
I then (lid, wit!; -, would 

have boon, un<lei -. in my 

own e^'itiiuatioii, .i:; ..., ' f-lt, 

as you exprcsscil, that there are s ■; ns 

to such a union as you have now ]■ y.»t 

know not but upon delil)eralion, luy re^ -ra for 
your porwon and chnraotcr, with numerous other 
lit overbalauce, and induce me 
t 

..-,.., ■f?".!ity in our ai»ea. Thi« I 

feel lo be a: I know not tli« difftr- 

ence. It n; . icrable. 

Again, the responaibility of one who shall take 
tiio place of the mother 'of your children — the 
ilifli' ulty of doini' " r one of 

niv i^'e, (not to ^ ■ ; doing 

wi.nt ."hall 1. - ' .) 

Another ■ :ht upon 

in\- iiiii.c! i ' , , ■) in our 

I jMH tins BUisject I have 
i m you; but you do not pro- 

fotw l'.kiih in I . .::-:. and have not in your hoiiso- 
hoM an aluir to tlio Gofl of Abraham. Were 

■ ' n this subject, pro- 

i oxist. I f-<'l that 

..., , , .. .s derived from the 

worship and service of my Maker; that I have 



18 



A MOTHER S PEACE OFFERING, 



taken up the resolution to pursue tlie path of 
duty as pointed out by conscience, (enlightened 
l)y the word and Spirit of God,) let the conse- 
quences be what they may. 

This, I conceive, is the decision and cross of the 
Christian, which secures an everlasting crown. I 
do not believe that religion lessens our love of 
earthly friends ; but whenever their wishes and 
the Saviour's requirements are opposed to each 
other, the Lord's rules being right, reasonable, 
and obligatory, and love to him supreme, the 
true disciples always adheres to them. 

Mr. Little, I am not so inconsistent as to sup- 
pose that your placing your affections upon me 
will produce any change in yoiir religious senti- 
ments or feelings, whatever they may be. No; 
I wish you to know my mind, and if jou are 
aware that ynu are, or shall be opposed to a 
course of life in a, companion that accords with 
snch sentiments, duty to yourself and to me re- 
quires that yovi declare it. 

I could never be hapj^y if opposed in these 
things by a near friend ; and if unhappy myself, 
should be unlikely to contribute to the happiness 
of another. 

You will understand that the last topic is what 
stands in the way of a decision. I confide in 
your candor, and wait a reply. 

Let the issue of our correspondence be what it 
will, I suppose you would not object to my being 
employed in the school at Hartford for a time. 
Perhaps it may conduce to my ov/n improve- 
ment. With the highest respect and friendship, 
I remain yours, L. J. Rots. 

Saturday, Oct. 8th, 1836. 

My De.vr Jane : i am sensible that your last 
ought to have been answered before now. The 
reason why I have delayed so long is, that one 
part of it caused me some difliculty. I will ex- 
plain before I close. 

Ton are desirous to know something of my 
views with regard to the suliject of religion, and 
whether I should be disposed to oppose you in 
the pursuit and practice of it. You confide in 
niy candor, and I mean not to deceive you. 

Although I have never been able to settle my 
mind satisfactorily with respect to the great mys- 
teries of the Gospel and its important truths, yet 
I hold in the highest esteem those whom I con- 
sider possessed of piety and true religion. I con- 
sider it as one of the most valuable appendages 
to the female character, and one of its brightest 
ornaments. And permit me to say it was that 
consideration more than any thing else, that de- 
termined me to pay my addresses to j'ou; and if 
I know my own heart, I have no disposition, nor 
do I believe I ever shall have, to oppose in a com- 
panion the pursuit of its holy purposes, but feel 
that I should always be disposed rather to en- 
courage her in such pursuit than to throw obsta- 
cles in the way. 

These remarks are intended as having ro?pect 
to the practice and pursuit of religion 5n a gene- 
ral point of view ; and could I stop here, I have 
little doubt that my views would meet your ap- 
probation. But that candor in which you con- 
fide, compels me to notice a particular part of 
your letter, which I am more troubled to get 
along with. Pei mit me to repeat the words. 

You say you " do not beheve that religion 
iessens the love of earthly friends; but when- 



ever their wishes and the Saviour's requirements 
are opposed to each other, the Lord's rules being 
riglit, reasonable, and obligatory, and love to him 
supreme, the true disciple always adheres to 
them." This seems to open a field for argument 
which I am unwilling to enter, and seems to in- 
volve subjects which I am unwilling to discuss. 
After having written much upon the sub- 
ject, none of which I am willing to lay before 
you, I feel under the necessity of letting it re- 
main undisposed of. 

I feel that it would be criminal to delay my 
answer longer ; and if I should, it is vtry uncer- 
tain whether I should be able to say any thing 
which would be satisfactory to you or to myself. 

I wrote yesterday, and sealed my letter. This 
morning I broke it open and wrote again. You 
liave h' re the result. "What you will tliink of it 
I know not, but hope you will make every allow- 
ance that charit,y will vouchsafe. 

With respect to your going to Hartford, I do 
not know that it would be prudent for me to say 
any tiling. Had this negotiation terminated soon 
and in my favor, I should harrily have been will- 
ing to have you go; but as it is, I hope you will 
use j'our own discretion. I hope it will never be 
my fate to cause much embarrassment or unhap- 
piness to you. 

I somewhat fear that the subject of our c^orre- 
spondence has not awakened that interest in you 
which I had hoped; but you know best 

Please reply as soon as convenient to this, and 
oblige yours in sincerity and truth. 

Pi.. Little. 

Miss Laura J. Eoys. 

Monday Eve, Oct. 10th, 1S3G. 

Dear Sir : The first page of yours of Oct. 8lh, 
removed from my mind the oul}' remaining ob- 
jection to an acceptance of your proposal, which 
left me entirely disposed to say that I consent to 
become yours in the sense implied in the divine 
institution of marriage. You, sir, have my en- 
tire confidence. Had I ever doubted that I 
should find in you an agreeable coropaniou, as 
well as kind friend, to have encouraged your ad- 
dresses would have been entirely inconsistent 
with my views of propriety. Indifference I 
sought, that I might, if possible, view the subject 
in its proper light, and exercise that considera- 
tion so important a step demands, and have 
thought best to maintain it until I had an ex- 
pression of your mind upon the topic I submitted 
to you. 

The quotation from mine upon your second 
page, I still repeat is the sentiment of my heart. 
It appears clear to me, and I was not aware that 
in advancing it I should present any difficulty to 
your mind, as appears is the case. 

Had I time, I would express some of my views 
of the subject, not expecting to convey light to 
your mind. My past experience forbids such 
expectations. Allow me to say, I feel that ex- 
perimental and practical religion is of chief im- 
portance, and believe that if faithfully pursued, 
all necessary light will be given in relation to 
other truths. 

If your conclusions in relation to interest or 
duty,' differ from what they have been, or if your 
views or feehngs in reference to myself have bo- 
come changed, you surely will not hesitate to 
inform me. 



A MOTHFK.S FEACK OFFKHIXO. 



10 



I woiiM like nn pxprweion of jronr mind with- 

-V " h }•')«! to fr^l at in>crty to act 

;n relation to writing, or call- 



willi a frnil mortal. 
slroTcd 

Peace of mind ; ' 



If ro, Iiow liable to )>e do- 
I .Tjcj't ! TbiM 



1 



r ...:..,- 

tiitioi, 1 replied i did not know ijiat 1 should 
r.hj.><-t. 

I'll H ii", I l)eti»vo, nil '' I 

! I now re..| tluii if 1 



t 

t '..... 

Xf'T. Jf you know of n- 
teem ht-st for hk- !•> >; 
may if you | . 
d.fivr>r tn U' 



y it mny not 

• 8c1io<j1. you 

.Mull that I will en- 

• rst "f ni^r.i tiiontb. 



shall not b© mnvcu ; " lut iinvo lui tiiO unport- 
anco of having the mind fortillcd, und ]>r(.-)iaivd 
r-r any OTcnts a righleoud Providence may 

dictJito. 



kind hfartf'l 
sunded mo. 
ed, and c('' 
pricsti^ntft )i! 



■'.\.<.i of 
I that I 



ci mo fur ' '-«. iind 

ir "1 and yo;;: _ : of her 

who sui'srrilics herself 

Yutira, in ainceritv and affV'Clion. 

L J. Roys. 
R. LiTTLF. Esq. 

The chain C'f wTitten discourse is bfre broken, 
tUrougb verbal communication having been 8ul>- 
Btituted. Next in ordtr ia the following : 

'•. that lonjr absent friend, that 
fi' 'T h'»r»>, «»«>pm«, mv Hoar .lano. 



I I havo but little 

n to sec her whom I 

lovu BO woil. Vi'u iiiiiiiml^^l that much of your 
timp would n^^^'firilr t^ f<>V:"n 'm' in vi-itinp 



Hu liiliu knew ilio griefa Li:i caviu aud rviuon- 
»tranco'< caused me. 

I think I am well nv ' ,« 

provinc of woman — ta :.t 

ol'!'^- -' ■■: •■-'■•■ .,,,.,.».-. I. ;■.._■.. . ■ ^ ,,,uld 

f': • mind of him to whom 

M. . : . L J. R. 

I do not find in my possession the p-npcrs re- 
ferred to under the next date. 

Tip ' > 

My Peak .Tank: U .o 



greuliy fe..r 
t\coi\, verv 



may, I leel tiiat i 
seem to have (a.s I 
unmanned me. I 
bear up under c- 



]. you on \ llie '/d 

N . . l-.M.. to spe; . .rs. Or 

would you rot like to come lo our n«'ighlx)rhood 
on Friday or Saturday, before commencinfr? If 
BO, why bad I not beticr defer my visit till then, 
ftLd bring you in? Hope you will let me know 
your plc.-isuri- ' . . , . • 

I .sup;^>Me I - 

and '• ill on . , . , 

jnibmiltfd, fiT you to sanction. \ ary an you 
f 1 n.= '', 'T drfline wholly, jus may h si suit yotir 
■ r wishes. 

1 are well and happy. Plea.«e write 
a I -v i,:i ■< soon to your affeotionato Lim^K. 

MisN Latra J. Roys. 

Friday, 21st Oct. IS.^C. 

P. S. — It in understood that your school will 
oommetno the first Monday in November. L. 



To have a firiend speak of 

uideed, gratifying; and it is l- •ir.i mu i. :- .<■ •■- ...... ., 

peace is not too much founded ui>on an alliance ' can not aek. 



. I 
I l>y jou. Tiity arv, in- 

- drawn by your hat.d ; 

ry ? do I posstss them .' 
I I tlo: and yet I would 
'■' — • • '• "••vn 

•'fir 

■V 

• d 
•I 







- -- -h I 
n of the lime. 


\ ■ 

senMhIe tliat my 

n.- 


.1 you are not in- 

.4 now in n fr^at 

■ " .rrl 


\ 




.-<1 


I 
V 




• l- 


I 

and c 
r>o nrf 




ine 
• ix>u a 6teai. 
Ill tlirow the 



20 



A MOniEll'S PEACE OFFKRIXG. 



Nov. 21 St, I80G. 

Dkau Siii: You do not expect auy further 
written conununications from mo at present ; but 
I doubt not will indulge nio notwithstanding. 

I apprehend that you disapprove of sonic of 
my mauagemont, whore, if you knew the reasons 
by which I am guided, you might judge dif- 
ferently. 

You think there was no occasion for the spirit- 
eil repulse 3-ou met, the first morning you called 
at uiy father's. Lot nio tell yon what I suppose 
ultimutoly led to my conduct at tliat time. 

When I was nineteen years of age, a friend, 
(and one whom I highl}^ esteemed as sucli,) re- 
quested of mo a private interview. 

Circumstances wero such that I easily mistook 
bis motives, and granted it. Ife was thereby so 
mueh encouraged as to disclose to me what ho 
otherwise would not have done, and when I in- 
formed him that I decidedly rejected his suit, he 
attached blamo to mo for not declining his re- 
quest. That I did not, I sincerely repented, with 
tiiat repentance which leads to the i'orsakiug 
of a fauh . Sympathy for the apparently afllicted. 
alienated friendsliip, and the idea of being myself 
to blauie, "were like a dagger woundiog my heart, 
and destroying my peace. 

The past I could not recall, but resolved not to 
incur blamo any more by encouraging any one 
whom I believed I should be unwilling to marry. 
That resolution has prepared me to ac^ decidedly 
in all similar instances since. The circumstance 
which I now relate to you, I have carefully con- 
cealed from every individual, and have driven as 
much as possible from my own remembrance. 

Allow me to tell you, sir, that you were the 
fourth individual whose addresses I have had oc- 
casion to encourage or decline the present year. 

The throe lirst 1 was prepared to meet from the 
considerations above mentioned. When lirst I 
had intimations of your partiality to me, I doubt- 
ed not that the objections 1 have belbro nauKHl to 
you, would iutitience mo to an immediate decision, 
should any advances be made on your part, 
though conscious that yom- partiality to me was 
more gratityiiig than bad been tliat of any other 
individual. This consciousness led me to hcsitsite 
when you informed me you designed to call on 
me. 1 know not that I should ever be willing to 
marry you, shoulil au opportuuity prcscut ; and 
to have incurred blame from you as 1 had before 
done, (in refercnce to the friend above mentioned,) 
would have been to mo a severe trial, indeed. 

I dare not, as in the former case, mistake your 
motives ; felt that 1 was willing to take the sub- 
ject into consideration, and thought best to de- 
chne an interview with you at that time, and say 
that I could only consent to a written corre- 
spoudenee. 

Tho rest you know. 

Another tiling I have in mind. You said with 
so nuich seriousness the other evening, you ex- 
pect to bo very lonely this winter. 

Do you think that 1, without justifiable rea- 
sons, have deferred our marrijige? I am certain 
that 1 wish to do all that duty and propriety will 
admit, to contribute to your enjoyment ; yes, am 
happy in so doing. Bnt with myself, the bare 
mention of one's marrying soon after tho death 
of a companion, has seemed to imply censure. 
The circumstanees which, in your view and that 
of your friends, make it necessary in your case, 



woulii not be known or considered as far as our 
marriage would be known ; and further, slander- 
ous tongues did s.ay of you that your partiality 
for another rendered you iudin'erent to your com- 
panion during her life ; and have since been ready 
to say that you had other motives than to secure 
my services as teacher, in the part you took to 
etfect that object. 

These are the considerations which induced 
mo to defer marriage, and if they do not serve to 
convince you that 1 am correct, will you, at least, 
admit that they are sufficient excuse for mo ? 

Should it remain your choice, (Providence per- 
mitting,) I hold myself bound to be yours; to 
enter upon an untried station, Avith tho duties ol 
which 1 am unacquainted, and to discharge which 
I am in a great measure disqualified. 1 am will- 
ing to become a learner; but you will suiier mo 
to remind you that "moderate expectations ai'c 
an excellent safeguard of the mind." Should 
you yet conclude that you have erred in your 
selection, and seek to correct that error, you know 
I hold myself in readiness lor such an event, imd 
should acknowledge it right. 

Yours, L. J. Roys. 

R. Little. 

Sheffield, 2-.lth Nov. 1836. 

My De.\u Madam : Many thanks are due for 
your late communication. I have read it over 
many times, and cvefy time with an increased 
sense of your goodness, and of my obligations to 
you for it. You are mistaken, to be sure, in sup- 
posing that 1 disapprove of any thing you have 
done. Although I was not perfectly satisfied 
with certain decisions at tho time, I have since 
been convinced that every thing has been done 
right on your part, and tho reasons you now give 
confirm me more strongly in that opinion. You 
speak of things with relation to yoursellj which 
aro entirely new to me, and in which I can not 
but feel a deep interest. But wlio is the vile 
wretch that has dared to use the slanderous lan- 
guage of which you speak ? If it is a man, and 

not beneath mj' notice excuse me, 1 dare 

not attempt to express my feehngs upon this sub- 
ject, lost I might bo betraA^ed to use language 
which would not become me when addressing 
you. 

I entreat you not to feel uneasy about my lone- 
liness. I have felt less of it this week, and am 
not without hopes that I shall get along very 
well. At any rate, do not suller yourself to pity 
me, for tJuit 1 could not well endure. 

Yours, truly, Ralph Little. 

My J axe. 

Monday Eve, Dec. 5th, 183t'i, 
10 minutes before 10. 
Seated alone as I am by a comtbrtable fire, 
with pen, ink, and paper before me, I am tempted 
to write a i'cw lines for Mr. L . That, how- 
ever, he will disapinovo. But methinks I can 
write a few minutes without doing injustice to 
any one. I recollect hearing uncle Newman tell, 
last winter, of one person who s;iid ho would not 
have the ser\-ice of such as were about getting 
married. I replied: "If that is the way people 
feel, I will not teach school al^er I think of mar- 
rying." You think, do you not, sir, I shotdd have 
kept my word? I think I should have practiced 
less idle tdk; but in reference to all the engage- 



A MOTHKRS I'KACK orFKHIVr,. 



21 



mrnUi into wliicli I linvc winco ontcrcd. I Imvo I w'iiw», n pri'lmt, n kind and ■ffcolionato motlifr, 

dono Wlllit 1 COnHidori.-d r.-'ht nud for tl,.- li' -I I :,1 I to If ', -it' 1 kl'i.l ni.i ■".■. -v ! •..!.. fr„ ti.! ;im| 

I nin K4-ii-<ililn tliat I i ^ r 

da:'r (•■■;••. to Vn f;..-:,l, . ■ ,1 

1 1 l,»v-« 



H<'vcni;.- "I • 
him whnl I 
''lurk (It nn I . ..■ 



Id nlinoAt ci'inplaiu of tho 

' :m rcfK-iit to 

1 r> lui Ijv Mr. 



" Althouirti tlin vinler liaa h««D long, 
Tb« fprliif iliall kit ll« wa*tr< repair.'* 

Pprip)? poon ••*rn*. nnd «■ mpidly pn'^wnl. Thus 
i Mnp will 

t < Die In 

■ ••••<!- 



to tlint stati-, HweMcnHtiii' c<i|<c>i iit<<, nad NiuixftliS 
il>« Pif't"! t'nth. You ank mo, kind nir, \\h-\f 
t ■ o you. Twill tdl you as ii< 

I • r byfH-ftniiinir mvflolf. A tir 



11. L 

.MoiLlny Kv. 10 ... ' ■ : 
Dkah Sir: With m:; 
t'>mpl • ■ '■ ' 

Yf)!| k' • ) 

loiirii !'• . ^' r 

to doTotion. 

TItnt tlio iTi?p!n?r nnd ?»wrrrf*rprny<T. H'» who 



This 1 !<ir 
irh I <'::fi 



t mind 



iiiftrry you. 



. thul 1 lii-iv 
i> yourfjimily 
A- wiiiuig to coufont to 
L J. R. 



Dec. K,th. 18:{t;. 
My Pfaii Jake: FTowovcr stnuigo it m«y ap- 
pear to you, that a [lonson who has not oxprri- 
©no«»d n '•b^P'T" '>*' h"art. r>nn «« flr.^t;ttit<» of reli- 
IT , .11 havo 

' ' ■ lat his 

!■ ■ ■• - 



I tiiink 1 



.', .d\. I dij Dot, hj;\ 
denravofl na not to 



II will 

have 111' 



•.v. « t 

of tho 



your |ir,iycni av.u!; uitd iu ii: 
wisdom find pnulenfo, kiiidn< 
bestowed uji ■ 
the part of v. 

fr 1- •— ■ 



I 



I!!. ; • 

thul 1 ^lluil Jo wruu^ lliun tlibl i '■ 

wronp. Wo onri Ti"t ovon know r I 

tried, and if r 

tost than ev- 1 

' • • Tcsnli. .'v 1 

th;it my li' 

, th of duty, : , i'' 

It. i hope, .Mr. I ijiind 

to TTiT fnultH, but i . mo to 

' them. CiU o;.c V. ..o ki.ovv.'* so well lh« 

s of kind parents ever bo olbcrwino tlmn 



head u|><)n : 



human heart i I 

,, No. If I kno-. 
t iiieu. I Uiciiiiioul wiih mc is decy> and abidiuK. I lia\o 
i in M>. no 'u\t>n<t of mtiotinl eriiovment hnf they nn* «.«- 



wiae. 



tlio elhcl" I 
Oo-i. in his 

1.. 

;i ■ 
t 



to do my duty lowani 
r-nt, md tiiat he won 
■■' • V.I, nod i^i ''■ 

i tnith. I 



II liiiil I filiie<l to hrtvo M) mucli d my IwmtI Wiiii my cm- 
frio tA I plnvmont r\9 to enjoy the life (<» whieh ? haro 
•.I'l. Is it 1 I.-- 

ti)»t T now 



to one who wooid bo to my bereaved children a 



I w 

'It C-. 



}uU. 

H. L 



., yuurs. 



' you, 

Ht ono 
it h.ilf 
or 8e« 
I„ J. R. 



I much fo.ar that you i 

in wliat I hare infomn - -^ 

opinionii. I am willing yoQ should know mj 



99 



A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 



lieart, but would not have you entertain hopes 
that may be deceived. I would have you to un- 
derstand, as I have before informed yon, that I 
have considered myself fiir from possessing vital 
piety as taught and required by the precepts of 
the Gospel. However necessary or desirable a 
true understanding- of these precepts may be, I 
have never been able, as I have told you before, 
to settle my mind satisfactorily in relation to 
them. That I believe in a Creator and Governor 
of all things, is no merit in me ; for who can be- 
hold the wondrous works of nature, the order 
in which they are held, the regularity with 
which the seasons pass and return, with all the 
other wonders which wo daily behold, and say 
there is no God ? And who believe there is a 
God of such power, such goodness to mortals, and 
not reverence and adore ? Why, then, believing 
thus, do I not live a different life ? 

Is there not a strange inconsistency in this? 
And yet strange as it may seem to you, I have 
thus believed, and thus lived from early life; and 
often prayed for a light of the knowledge of the 
truth ; for grace to know, and a heart to perform 
my duty in all things. And yet where ami? 
Not, perhaps, considered as the most depraved 
of mortals, yet as far to all appearance from what 
you would have me, as when my manhood com- 
menced. I hope I shall never feel a disposition 
to oppose you, or any one else, in the pursuit of 
religion. 

When I look upon ray past life, I can see that 
I have been brought through many trials, many 
dangers, and am yet preserved : for what end is 
known only to Omnipotence. What I gave you 
in writing upon this subject was not to deceive 
you, for as you observe, I could have no object in 
that now, but it was to let you know the truth 
so far as I know myself, and my own heart. But 
oh ! the heart of man, how little known to him- 
self. If my course of life has not been, and is 
not now in consonance with what I — 

The article above is copied from the unfinished 
manuscript given me by Mr. Little. 

Sabbath Eve, Jan. 22d, 1S3T. 

Dear Sir: My heart is unusually sad this 
evening, for which I can assign no especial rea- 
son. 

But hojie is the bright bow in the clouds that 
come over the human mind. I expect that sad- 
ness will soon be dispelled, as well as that the 
storm that now casts a gloom over the face of 
nature will soon have passed by ; to be suc- 
ceeded, indeed, by alternate sunshine and gloom. 
I have had recourse to a perusal of the letters 
and papers in my possession from your hand, 
which revive, among other kindred emotions, a 
sense of obligation, for expressing which I sup- 
pose I shall not now be thought insincere. 

I find in, your last some things to which I 
would like to reply. If I mistake, not, you have 
somewhere expressed that you would love God 
for the excellency of his character, j'-et in the 
above-named communication speak of yourself as 
not having experienced a change of heart ; which 
presents a difficulty to my mind, as I never sup- 
posed I loved God until I had ceased to refuse 
compliance with the Gospel terms of salvation. 
You will permit me to inquire in what way we 
may have evidence that our prayers are answered, 
without having the same degree of evidence, that 



we have been led by the Spirit of God, or in 
other words, regenerated by his Spirit. 

Wednesday Eve, Feb. 1st. 

You say in a later communication, you sup- 
pose you are as far from what I would have you 
be in religion, as when you entered the stage of 
manhood. 

I reply, it appears evident to me that if we are 
truly the servants of God, we have that regard 
for his glory which leads us to desire that all his 
creatures may love and serve him, and that our 
love of our friends leads us to wish to see them 
blessed with the possession of that godliness 
which hath promise of the life that now is, and 
of that which is to come. And further, our own 
joy arising from intercourse with earthly filends 
is greatljr hightened when they delight in the 
service of Christ. Here, then, are three reasons 
why I (if I am what I profess to be) should wish 
you to be a disciple of that Master in heaven 
whom I desire to serve. 

I have long been of opinion that for a believer 
to marry an unbeliever is inexpedient, if not Dn- 
scriptural; have not unfrequeutly expressed this 
opinion to others, and though I do not promise 
not to change my opinion, held firmly to this 
until I became convinced of your partiality for 
me. I regarded you as an unrenewed person, 
and was .^-urprised at myself on finding my scru- 
ples vanish ; and fearing lest undue creature at- 
tachment should cause me to swerve from the 
path of Christian duty, I resolved on a season of 
especial prayer for direction ; and on returning 
home at the close of my school, appointed (in my 
own mind) the two succeeding days for private 
fasting and prayer. 

I earnestly besought of my heavenly Father to 
guide me into the way which should be agree- 
able to his will, and where I should best sub- 
serve the ends of my existence here. 

I attained a state of mind in which I felt pre- 
pared for whatever event might ensue ; presented 
the subject to my parents, as I have before told 
you, thinking perhaps their advice would lead 
me to a decision. 

But as they declined saying any thing to in- 
fiuence, I wi'ote to you what conscience dic- 
tated, and awaited your reply wdthout much 
solicitude. 

I probably should not have related all of the 
above, had not some things you have written led, 
or rather opened the way ; for which I thank you. 

I know that important consequences must re- 
sult, from such a union as we now contemplate ; 
but may we not hope that He who ruleth all 
things, and whose guidance we each have aimed 
to seek, designs that we thereby shall be truly 
blessed ? 

For this I would still pray. 

I am not conscious of being actuated by any 
motives while entering into this engagement but 
those which I suppose ought to influence in such 
aftairs, and my mind has remained unmoved. 
Did you ever think mB influenced by the idea of 
your being rich ? 

Pardon the inquiry. Your remarks the other 
evening led to it. 

I am not aware that my heart is yet much set 
upon riches. I hope for the comforts and con- 
veniences of life as long as I need them; but if 
denied, hope for a submissive spirit. 



A MOTIIKKS I'KACE OFFERIXO. 



23 



Feb. ICIh, 1S37. 

Mv in^'i .T*m:: The calm, the miW, ihe 

la, I Itelievp, odeu more 

.' >i^ t'> n M'n"* of oiir 

10 





•iTi!<»«s th«' .•in-'i'M-t'c '■•• <'f railing my 
i moro Ibreibly 



ircd ibat a tiae : 

». LiTTLB, K?-.! 

Ill© follow 
.ite ill the : 



i bo ng- 



L. J. UoTS. 

!i'ic<l iiiu before the latest 
lU u itiiTo re8{x)iuleil to: 

Tuesday, 3lst Jau. 1S37. 

, tl.,„. .1 , I ...... „n,,.M.,lly 



I'KAR .].\\^ 

•('.■rious on ' s. 

I di» iioi til. ,il- 

ihougli I wiis uul suh.iiuie t i' it. 1a» you liiiuk 
it Btn»n£r«». o<.!)-i.l<-rifvj- th" trinl-» ihronpli wliicU 
I " a of my 

"lUft of 

.._^ >.;l8t its 

.1 oven now 

-.m? WouM 

it not Ihj Biiil niori' str •very trace of 

tlioso allii'-ti'tti'' sf) !»(>o;i . :.«)in my mind, 

and I • • uica to wear the coetumo 

of joy 

I con-i itr ( ; ;ii.iiii!-s i\ d'lty. I rank its 
name amongst llio TirtiKs, ainonjfst which it i.-i 
by DO mcan^ i' ■ : .-i I ;' f ouxl>t lobe 

cultivated ;i~ i virtue. Yet 

it is not in li 1 ilnd it not in 

mine, todi.«)>il ai u.',i i.iuvn anU kcop aloof tbe 
adverse prinfinlp, i<all ii whut- ynn will, doprf*- 



v ' can at 

:■ ■ . . : St) iix- 

eidloUa U iVn.- i 

I suppo.s.' !M>riAn»ne«s i^ wm^whnt Cf>n'!fit'!- 
tional with n 
rences in n 

facilitate it'* . i- - ■ . 

dominion f> r . of tiau', r... 

panicd by a • nily. I a 

plcoju'l witii ciicertuincsH m oitiersi, and like Ui 
jxartako it with tliTn. I havf> ]<! ■;f*uro in at^aoci- 
ating with t ,> claf^tio and 

lively. Th' -i. and have a 

1 ' •' :; and 1 

1 -s is not 

ll ..- .: - .- .\0.-r 

readinfj tiim you will 

a want of vivacity i.'< li 

deportment. Ab for a r«.i.ii.;y tl.r . I" 

I may so «':dl it.) I know of Done - .s 

as your 

I 1h r will be ready «x>n; but do 



ngiit wiiou we are led to stc wo Mri.' v.ri<\,g, than 
to h? c rrpcted dirfti'!' hy ."n-^thcr T';e !«lt*r 



|ire«enl itni: - - .. .:_■• 

in^ i", that aa it loafL'S us to idy, we 

are liable to bo mistaken \s ' to the 

wro'ig wo bavo done, haviiif^ ooij ti.c cflTc'ts it 
produce.^ to Hud out tlie cainw. 

I thibk jou Will not ' > mi^Ulke iLo 

suVject to which I am ' 

You will 't^. K!.., , ... nt our lato 

interview, ;, .re wtre no oondi- 

li >iin. My 1 -re nooe. 

I now hay Umi I tenove Uiere were none ex- 
pi^a44>d ; Vut surely lli«»r» nrv. or o'ltrht to be, 
<• ■ .pliodine\- .liid,aDd 

H ;.3 I ack: in tfis 

fiiiiKe - 

inff, th.i- ' ^ : : s 

happened ou my part. Las oeeu eitiier iDToiuntarj 
or purely accidental. 

Alas! bow difTicult for liuman weakness to 
guide the bark of iifo in sife'y thruuch the 
troubled ocean of iu « •■ ' ' ' * '<t 

it id ou every i-ide by ; 

tune, the turbid waves >.: ... . -, 

or the ragin? storms of warn: Aud, 

alas ! bow dearly do we f fit :. ■ pay for 

the least variation to the right or to the l«lt from 
tlio narrow and often obscure channel of safely. 
•,'7 are they who have en ever- 
!iin to guide them securely 
I'M.., >.. .-..'<>.■) and breakers of this tumu'.- 
tuovis sea. 

I was tot aware till our late interview, that I 
had in the leAst transgressod. nor then till ruminau 
ing sftcr I left you, on what had then irrinoy'r* d ; 

■1 now, my dear girl, since I am • i 

haviiii^ violated expressed or r 

■.I-. I iiwi not without liope r' • ■ ■■ 

uot your regard for me will : 
^•vhcayou are s«ti.sficd tl at '. ... . - .. ..^ a 
penalty 6uffi:uent for the oflenac.) 

YoiirH truly, R. T.TTTl.r, 

Mi»-8 L. J. ItoYS. 



Tl- 



.» ', 



\\ i.o lows you lieaiiy. 



me to 

.iiiT you 
to N«w-Yotii . i Wi'iiid liave liked an oppor- 
tinily for verbal expUnatinn on tha «ii»ij.«ci of 
your letter i '" .or of- 

fended me. U>at I 

•" •'■• ' ' ' ■ ■••- -■■■■■'■•■: .,,. .. . . . ,.-.. ,1 dA;;hi 

t!( me, tnat if a loaulo errs. ;: is 
r error been the side that lie'tnda 
U. LiiiLK. I cnaracttr. 



24 



A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 



Please toll me plainly of my faults, and believe 
me, vours truly, sincerely, and afleclionately, 
■r. L. L. J. R. 

Sabbath Eve, March 5th, 1837. 

I would not be an idolater, nor willingly be 
idolized. Love is the duty of all rational crea- 
tures ; the proper incentive to the perFormanee 
of all other duties, and the only source of all true 
bliss. 

To let the love of earthly friends stand in the 
way of love and duty to God, is wrong. Not to 
love our friends is a violation of God's commands. 
I would that my attachment to every object 
mi<:cht be in accordance with the divine will. 

This I am convuiced is the sure way to bless 
and to be blessed. 

The above is suggested by the idea that my 
mind is of late too often wandering from the 
topics which should engross it in the time of 
public worship. 

Would you like to go out on a visit to-mor- 
row evening? Aunt Newman intends to be at 
father's, and would like to have me visit there 
attended by yourself. I wish you, sir, to act as 
your own pleasure and convenience dictate. 

Please send me word in the morning. 

To Mr. Little. L. J. Roys. 

Monday Mom, March Gth, 1837. 
Good morning, my dear Jane. How very 
pleasant it is. The present prospect is, that the 
good sleighing will not continue long. Would 
yo\i like to ride this evening? With respect to 
the time of starting, the direction, and the desti- 
nation, choose for yourself. With respect to 
company, it may not be very good. 

I can promise you but Little. 

Monday, 6th March, 1837. 
Dear Jane : Have you read the note which 
I inclosed in your package this morning? Sinoe 
writing that, I have read yours of last evening, 
in answer to which I have to say that nothing 
cculd afford me more pleasure ihao to comply 
with your kind invitation of visiting with you at 
your father's to-morrow evening ; and nothing 
that I now know of will prevent my doing so. 
It is now too late for me to get this to you as 
early as you requested, which I regret, but hope 
you will receive it this afiernoon. 

Yours, truly, R. Little. 

Because it is my aim to show, as far as possi- 
ble, the true workings of Mr. Little's mind, I 
copy all that I find of what he was led to give 
me in writing, pertaining to myself, previous to 
our marriage. The two following are without 
date, and with a form of prayer of his own, bring 
this portion of my work to a close. 

Do you wish to know what induced me to go 
to your father's and call upon you at that time ? 
I will tell you. On Friday previous, perhaps you 
will recollect being at the store and speaking to 
me about getting some books for you. I then 
supposed from wliat I could discover, that you 
were desirous of communicating something to 
me, which you could not, on account of some 
one being present. Knowing that you could not 
ask for an opportunity, I thought it incumbent 
on me to ofi'er one, and could think of no place 
80 appropriate as your father's. How mistaken 



I was in my surmises you can tell, and how im- 
proper the course I took, you can judge also. 
My first reception was polite indeed and charm- 
ing beyond expression ; it but illy prepared me 
for what was so soon to follow. 

But as it was for your sake that I encountered 
it, I complain not ; my own purposes would not 
have led me there at that time. 

THE CONTRAST. 

A modest, meek, imploring, confiding, tender 
look — not devoid of solicitude — and full of inno- 
cence and sweetness. 

Oh ! wear that look again for me. 

A distant look of icy coldness — not devoid of 
reproach — and expressive of injured feeling or 
offended pride. 

Oh ! never wear that look for me. 

I may not speak of the following as pertain- 
ing directly to myself, but rather indirectly. 

Supremely wise, supremely high and holy 
God! we would come before thee at this time 
with humility and meekness of spirit, acknow- 
ledging our sins and many transgressions ; ac- 
knowledging our own helplessness and our entire 
dependence on thee, our Creator, our preserver, 
and our great and only benefactor. Give us hearts 
of gratitude, God ! for all the mercies which 
we are daily and hourly receiving at thy hands. 
Enable us to call home our wandering thoughts, 
that are too apt to stray far from thee, and to 
dwell on the vanities of the world. Cast us not 
off", God ! nor forsake us, but be thou our 
guide and our protector. Forgive us all our past 
sins, we pray thee. Protect us from sin and 
every evil in future, and guide us in the ways of 
righteousness and truth, that we may stray no 
more. Enable us to live as accountable and de- 
pendent creatures. Continue tliy mercies, and 
extend thy blessings to uis, we beseech thee. 
Bless us in our endeavors to be useful to our- 
seh^es and our fellow-creatures while on earth. 

God! enable me, thine unworthy servant, 
I pray thee, to do my duty towards the children 
which thou hast given, and permitted to remain 
with me to the present time. Give mo wisdom and 
grace from on high to deal with them, as in duty 
bound, as their earthly parent. But, God I my 
arm is but the arm of flesh, weak indeed, and frail 
as the morning flower. Wilt thou therefore, 
God ! extend thy protecting care, and thy bene- 
ficent hand to them ? Encircle them in the arms 
of thy love. Preserve th6m from the evil tempt- 
ations, from the follies and vanities of the world, 
and guide their young and tender minds in the 
ways of virtue, of truth, and of peace. 

Give them hearts of love to one another. Give 
them to know and do their duty towards their 
remaining earthly parent and their fellow-beings ; 
and as they grow in years may they grow in 
grace and usefulness, and in knowledge of thee 
their heavenly Father. 

Make the path of duty plain before them, 
God ! and give them hearts to walk therein. 

Bless them in all their useful endeavors, and in 
all their laudable undertakings through life ; and 
may we all be finally received into thy j^resence, 
to dwell with thee through a never-ending eter- 



A MOTHKKS PKACK OKKKKINO. 



25 



nitjr, niid llie praiae, God ! wball ba thitio for 
orermoro. Aiuen. 



Ti. 



^T-. ,1 !.. -,,. 1 



/iM imrui, CuUl«.'!vi lo liW ItiiuriU-^.i HUJ ciiOfWH iH-ii, 

that t.e waM willio^f tu rank among t)iofH< thai 
prav. I have learned llmi tlm niotlier of th" 
childwu who ari< xuIijl'cIm of iho prnjcr uIxjvo 
quoted, four }•' — '■ ' . i ...i ...,i,i m,j 

found poacr Aa h 

natural con". _ ^ i that ht-r 

hUHbund andciniuren Niiouiu LtToiue [-artukern of 
thi.H K^ace of life. Hut ho n-pulHcd hor in a man- 
nor of which I will uol Mptak here, (but may 
horeafler,) and left htr with a greatly lrit'<l fitith, 
to walk alono (in her hou^e) before the God of 
tlio everlasting covtiiant. 

Nearly one year before Mm. I.itile'rt death, 
(iCorg«, their youngest, and a niO.>(liuiort»tinv,'child 
ofaix yearr, (lickenod and died. Th< n Mr. Litllo 
WU9 heard to cxpre.^s a conviction of the truth 
that Mr«. Liltlo had, in her faith, a support which 
w Mm. He hHS told me, that his grief 

11 nf that child, wrh t^j him a acem- 

; - .1 ' . ..., -. .) ; .. I .-.r ll., t t,.,.I 

I 

l.y, 

liuDs riiliier tiinn u !teli-ilfcvivud nmn ; iua.xtiiucii 
na he told me, l<oforo my own marriage, that the 
death of Mrs. Little was no great aniiction to him, 
becau.so aho h^d no nfl.-ction for him, and very 
little for her children. Tni.'t announcement wan 
to me then " a mvHtery," given for time to un- 
fold. What timf haa done for me, I am endeav- 
oring that thene jwgea alinll do for others — for the 
beneQt of those who shall come after. At the 
time of my marriage, Mr. Litllo had, through 
(iod'n di.<*pen.<«atioiia thwarting his own expecla- 
i: ' ' ' ■ • ' ' ' ' •' ,n when, 

i: lationa 

...;. ^-. ;..... ....rid. he 

V «fr than s.<< a child of light, simply 

1 1 1 studied and practiced in the way 

wriiitii •nil bv proper authorities longer. Never- 
tholea*!. hkn Saul of TarsuH, he now p^ay^ And 
li ' ' yoe, iho prayer of the blind, 

a: ■ Hervant or handmaid ici go and 

lenu r 1. 11 .'> Mi'j itand, till the sciiles shall fall 
from their evee. 

And was Uii.t to be my hlis-^ful misaion ? To 
take lhi.'« toil-worn son of Adam by the hand, or 
walk In'fore him in the narrow way, till he shotild 
tind the green pastures and tho still waters, 
where hi» faintinur soul mikrht be restored before 
! ' ' ; ' • I> : ■'. ^<j. this would have 

1 t, the enemy of all 

^ . . .. .1 way to deMtroy his 

contidence in mo. Tnis, 1 am fully persuaded, ho 
did by disguising himself in tho pnrh of an angel of 
mercy in tho form of hi;' thy. 

However, tho work i, was given to 

her whom I should, un>irr i.oi, n ' ' 

purpose; and did I not ." , in u 

tho evidence of things n^t Heei>, Ih';... . ; 

loader and tho led) in the " bettor land " of which 
our "green paaturea and Pliil wattrs" are but 
typ«.\s I could not e.\pect to survive the labor of 
writing out tho coming .'^eciions of this cbapu?r. 



BtCTIOX IL 

LK.«rr n>y work in there sections b« looked ujion 

»u „ .... ..t.f.. ,.! ll .. If, ,.,.,. :.ii „ »i..i ..f recent 

. of my 
with a 
viuw lo aiiuwiiig liww ..r u/i>(<' uiy i^itrX Kp«>k<« 
out of it" Mbuf!"lii«i«'« duriri' (!ii« jori"! ■ t-r wh'-n 
one stai v, 

while I 'it 

s'jch ft' K 

for its I r 

ill it* c ^ l 

leans, 

rrevious to my marriage, Mr. Little told m» 
he believed thoce families were mo»i happy wlio 
dispensed with hired servants, and inquired if I 
wore willing to do with the assistance of his 
daughters, by hiring washiog aiid »uch work as 
we were not suflicient for. 

To this I readily aasented. The first summer 
after my marriage, an ngod woman wl o had 
been much in the fdniily during Mrs. Little's life, 
came lo me with an important nietiRaye. Mrs. 
Little, before her decease, la 1 htr, if 

she should live to sto t!:e s. ' in hfr 

,..., 1, ,., 1,11 i)m( 8co>i,d 1...... .V was her 

'>uld teach her daughters inJuj>(ty 

.Mr. Liiilu al-so told me, that she had said to 
him, she hoped ho would r.ever bring a godless 
woman into his family, and showed me the leaf 
turned by her own hand in tho family Hible to 
the chapter giving an account of Abraharn's fend- 
ing hi.s servant to tind a wife for his con Isaac. 
Thus was I mado to feel that God had been 
sending nie hither in answer to the prayers of the 
pious dead. 

I engaged in the work of teaohineandbarning 
with high hopes and new-(iuBhe<i i"ys, and for a 
time all went on prosperously. ! ' ' iw 
there was a defective .«yFtem of p t 

rather a defective govemmenl b<x.. , ril 

system, but did not expect to legislate lo the 
revolutionizing of tho house ; for I disclaimf d all 
jurisdiction where I was not the natural or dele- 
gated ruler, and no one can delegate n yower h« 
does not possess. My huxljand larked suthnrilv, 
and there was in his fumily an evil, like hered- 
itary taint in tho systcn- • ' ' rno with and 
carefully treated until, j may l>e out- 

grown. I!f.'<ide, 1 hnvi wn that I. a« 

as a woman, held te my right of leaving men and 
larger boys to govern themselves and efif«h o?her ; 
while I was ever ready to grant • 'o 

the best of my ability, to such as w to 

come to nie f'r it. with ; - * " ' •■, 

place, and manner. T ::g 

to the principles I hnd 1:: - . : -d 

the work and ways of the house of my hiiabaod, 
carrying cut his suggfiioun as far as in my 
power, was my field of labor. To thi* I Jis^idu- 
ouiilv applied mvfielt' and with na much cei niing 

.il 
.;..... . .. , .. ..■'*, 

and I WHS >•• 'f of lh» 

."ubjects of . 11.1 fur as 

requested. 

Hut in doing thia, I was discovered by the 
children and thfir sympathizers to bo seimir a 
very selfish as well as a very unf^shioiai/ic ]>urt. 



26 



A mother's peace offering. 



No sooner did a reflux influence reach the 
family through the complaints of the children 
under the new state of thing?, from those who 
stood without, taking observations, than did dark- 
ness brood over the countenance of my husband 
toward me. This being attended with silence, 
left me to " conjecture only" with respect to the 
real or imagined wrong I had done. It had 
been my fortune through all of my school life, 
to be left to discover the thoughts upon the 
printed page, without aid from a living teacher. 

Why my heavenly Father should give me so 
great a thirst for knowledge, and yet conflne me 
to so limited a stream, had been to me, iu early 
life, a mystery. 

Now was I in an early stage of my married 
life left to wonder at the dealings of his provi- 
dence, through the dealings of my husband toward 
me. 

In all my experience and observation, I had 
not met a government where sentence was pro- 
nounced and executed without a specified offense. 
My husband had placed in my hands the papers 
fi'om which I had learned 1 is ideas of female 
training and female character; and I had been 
made happy in seeing that my fortune enabled 
me to meet his demands on that score. 

Yet it was evident his claims were not met; 
and to learn the cause and the remedy, if possible, 
was a new study put into my hands,(shall I say?) 
nay, but into my head and my heart ; for me- 
thinks the heart had now somewhat to do. While 
I wondered at the wajs of my Maker in these 
new dispensations, I was not left to distrust. I 
believed and rested on the word which teacheth 
that all things shall work for good to those that 
love God. 

That I loved God was proved to my own con- 
sciousness, by the sweet communings I enjoyed 
with him through his word and prayer, both in 
the closet and the public sanctuary. Toat, under 
God, I loved my husband, was proved to me by 
the pain experienced, when sweet communings 
were denied me, without any explained cause. 
But as I was treated by him with a formal re- 
spect before others, I had only to lock my sor- 
rows in my lonely, restless bosom, except as I 
poured them out before One who invites the 
heavy-laden to come unto him for rest. Whether 
another among the daugliters of men has poured 
out such a profusion of sorrows to this Omnipo- 
tent Receiver, is known only to himself; but of 
this I am confident, he is precious to the soul, in 
proportion as he has taken off its burden ; and he 
has taken from my soul an amount sufficient to 
have crushed me to a literal death a thousand 
times, but for this relief. For this cause I can 
no more write an epistle which does not resound 
his praise, than coali the Apostle, who was as 
one born out of due time. 

What could be the cause of my husband's dis- 
affection? True, his children were disorderly, 
but that was not a new thing, and therefore 
could not be my fault. Bssides, there was an 
evident improvement in the general aspect of the 
house. They groaned under the toils of life, light 
as they were in comparison with those about 
them. But to groan under the burden of life is 
the lot of mortals. 

They were healthy and strong. Their father 
was sole proprietor of the oldest and most pros- 



perous mercantile establishment in the town, 
beside owning real estate which he valued at 
live or six thousand dollars. The latter alone 
constitutes a healthy working family rich in such 
a town as ours. 

Mr. Little desired and expected his to be a 
working family. This he taught them by pre- 
cept and example. But how was this teaching 
to be enforced? Ah! here was the difficulty. 
Strict frugality and economy had ever been asso- 
ciated with the name of the house. But for a 
mother-in-law to appoint duties which had been 
performed by hired help during the life of the 
natural mother, to the daughters whose mother 
had been laid to rest in the .grave, was seen to be 
an absurd abuse of power, a cruelty which 
called aloud for indignation. When rumors of 
this reached my ears through the children, I 
treated the affair as I had learned during my 
teacher-life, to treat similar oflenses, which must 
needs come in such a world as ours. I knew 
from whom I had accepted my call to the office 
I held, and the instructions I had received, 
and with studying to keep a conscience void of 
offense toward God and toward man, I was will- 
ing to wait for time to report between myself and 
neighbors, who was the most wise in her own 
house. 

To my husband I felt myself bound to do a'l 
things agreeably to his will, as far as in my 
power. I can now conscientiously say that I 
can not recall an instance when he ever asked a 
favor or a service of me to himself, to which I 
did not cheerfully respond, so long as he suffered 
me to live with him. But he had expectations 
which could not in the nature of things be rea- 
lized. I once heard him tell our little boy that 
when himself a boy his father hired him to a 
man who scolded him, and he ran away. My in- 
ference is, that he never yielded to any authority 
of parent or master in early life, but was taught 
by a necessity (the curse more than the blessing 
of which had fixed his mental gaze) to govern 
the outward man rather than the inward spirit; 
and as he increased in stature and in favor with 
man, he increased in strength of purpose that his 
own will shotild be done. He was fully sensible 
of his dependence upon man (in the masculine 
form) for the management of afl'airs, so as to carry 
out his own decrees. By exercising faith in 
man, he gained honnr from man, aud to one who 
by his own personal efforts has elevated himself 
so as to receive from man the plaudit, " Well 
done," honor from ivoman and from God must 
come as a matter of course, or rather as a matter 
of merit. When, in his experience, the honor 
which he received from woman was only in pro- 
portion to the faith he had in her, and the conse- 
quent honor he bestowed upon her, and al-^o the 
honor received from God similarly proportioned, 
instead of meekly studying to solve the mystery, 
or to search out the cause he kneiu not, he suffered 
his spirit to chafe as a volcanic fire in the moun- 
tain's breast. After the death of her whom he 
had chosen in youth to be the partner of his life, 
he doubtless saw something of his past errors; 
aud at the time he selected one who was in vis- 
ible communion with the Church on earth, (a 
communion which his spirit had denied to her 
who had now joined the Cliurch triumphant,) he 
possessed an increase of faith in woman and in 
God. But he had given to his cliildren, by heri- 



A MOTIIEIlS PKAC^: OFFEIUNO. 



27 



Uitre and br cduralion. a predomiDancs of the I wiitdum lot hint »nk of Go<<, that Rivc-th to all 

^...: W, '-. -- 1 : . .. I . . .1 I l.l 1',.. _. .1 ... 1 ...,.l. .1. ..• ...i .1 .l-ll 



to it. lind ' would l<iivi< 

»<6tii tliatl)i<' li wuinuti niid 

in God, uiid li.ui \iuw in.ii i .\ j . : .• ntf \v. n- i.r- 
ocBStrj' to fool out tliocrron* wliich would i-ptirn; 
rruiii Muclt a aoil uuder eudi culture an tiad been 
friven. 

I Iw ".•■."" r. ■ „. ,,1 t.. 1^, tliM- I hav» 

nivur • ilian I 

have ii: i. ;.> popu- 

lar fuvor, uiid I 6iu UilUrr lliuit lliti aviruco i>t' 
iDPTi. 1 «>Tp«>oi my chddreu to do aa well oh 1 
1 " iu<>ri> nutward rcfliMiiii. 

1 oJ. Ho in ftulv lir.' H' w 



ttie pititoiMe M tnado (• > 
iiuiirdtif;, thiit. the wo'd : 
iniiislator. Thv pruDiiac i» mudc tu ai 
1 mil one. 



-7 ex- 

. i>r I he 

1, uf wbou 

• ■ \ 



in iile had aet out Uj i- 
liMjkinjf r»r a miruciiloun 
I H»U.> iiijiiit (iWD apirit ; ■■' 
I'rii'iifd, Ut> t-uflTcrod the >■ 



! <i 



ffforl ncfilii;! fur tiicD'. He iinturaliy oxp«x-ted 
that a neriso of trratiludo would lead them to re- 
aptcl and obt-y him. Hut they could no more 
appreciate what they had never been deprived 



* of lile. The tlrst moiher of 

1 lul, (as I waa told by a youi'fr 

!»oy who oin.o Hcted as fjovemesa in the family,) 
that when her huahand wns irone to New- York 
lor a w ' ' ■ ' to jcot the cliiliiren 

unilfr . It na aorm as tl" ir 

laliier : ; ..^..^ ...>•( all undone. Thi> 

elde!>t daughter aaid to I^nt Roy* while he lived 
«o near ua, after my labors commenced in tho 
family, as to we for him.self somethinpr of her 
oourw" n*. hoTP: ' The reason I am so bad is bc- 
I ' botn governed. My mother 

^\ I'd me, but my father alw:»ys 

lercd the family, I bad dealt with 
I' ' mind too lontf t4) exp*'-"'" t.. <; ix mid 

reap on tho same day. I knew tb.i° lt 

effort in one direction or another - : >r 

every miod that ia deotinrd to l>ear rcitpouhibili- 
tiM of its own. 

Toe: • ■ ■ • 1 it, 

was I o 

muih I.* . , V . . . „ , of 

keeping; a written roconi wh; I with- 

out misnko. nt t^" t-nd of i,: • dfp<->rt- 

ment r 'om of the Ho.xiuntal.;e. Aa I 

could • ■ in \\>o «-K(vr.l r<^w b'-'bro roe, 

u But 
r 'd of it, 

abolia'.ed. Nfy work 

daun*'.ters. WhaU-ver t 

carryiDg out reporta, or bnosrin^f in petiliocs to 

the head from whom I re«"pived infttmcti"i:« W 

known to the Jud^e of ail the earth. Ii i 

runde any inquirie.'' or wrii'un any n 



lioune. \^'hat h« /'luo Mriileii 1. wiil c >)>y ii<lo 
tliif"; and what he l.n* spoWcn I can tiisilf (^i«e 
y> The llrnt direct or i-pecidc 

T' ^ wise: I spoke to him of the 

■ r'' •»-. 1 1 '■■"> He only 

, ling di- 
rectly to teacii the uaofciiter to rum her own 
spint, and drove mc to t'H< inner fancHnry for 



aelf For I ite- 
\ from God, when 



a more c-^mplcte ( 

lioved that the en 

le fdv.", " He that n..- 1 -.-,..-. ,, 

l:e lh>il laketh a city.' •< 

wtil u."* her lord, and th.i'. : - .- -. — . : .u 

ihia, a.s in other right way.^, brings >ts reward. 

The next rebuke came in this furm : "You pro- 
frps to desire to do (icod. Never was a belter 
field open before one, and you have rcfii»ed Ut 
occupy." I waa greatly surprised and preadv 
grieved at (he charge, and besoui^ht him to tc I 
some particular inatanct 3 where I !■ ' ' ■ '■ ni 
ihe wrong. He roi>lii'd : *' I won'i ■> 

particulars ; your whole spirit i'f w > ir 

un uiider-curreDt for the deatructiou uf uiyci:lf 
and house." 

I 8 ■]• -f'd him that in all my course 

I had '. na to the brsi of inv judff- 

meut lie ! ; d: " Tl - ■' • 't 

much " I lad great gr 

rrttion. I feh my weaki.' - j. jI 

I had comfort in ihe promico : 'The meek wiil 
he guide in ji;dgment ; the inotk v-;ll le leach 
his law." I had r.owopoort'ii ' ractioo 

of meekness such na I never i. 

The next • ' " ^r 

veHPH ((f.» r ; '' 

"-... ..:.. . I 



Ihulii, and i<U)(K«'^l li>e 
oTtf of thpfn from home 



i', and waited to sec how on/z-r might bo main- 
liined under another dis<.-ipline. I now had oc- 
oa.>-i'ip to lake to Gcd a promi'sory note piven 
Willi tho .'^auction of his own namo, and nrjje itn- 
mediaie payment. It wa-« written by hit aerv 



iovo and proiiii!«;fl ol kmuiie** had wmi 
heart could hnve wiid to me a^ I would hav 

!.. h.m: ■■ r:. 

i>N..i.- 1 -.^ 

and liid obts. <■:,'-•• n. »i i- i>. i.-- ivnp 'i i 



my 
■aid 



lut Jame^, aiid ia as follows : " If any of you lack lucjiiut for openlf rebuking a daughter, and 



28 



A mother's peace offering. 



pronounced me " insignificant and contemptible." 
i ceased to reprove. I expected by a correct 
course io his eyes to become restored to his 
favor. I expected that time would show the 
true cause of, and the true remedy for, the ills 
which then wounded his peace, and at least to 
be able to smooth his passage to the grave, and 
point him, as he looked for a security which 
money or lands can not give, to the Lamb of 
God who takelh away the sin of the world. 
But while I ceased to reprove, I controlled the 
work of my own hands, and governed the child 
whom God had given me according to my own 
judgment, treati:ig with due respect (as far as I 
understood) all those with whom I came in con- 
tact either at home or abroad. I had no conten- 
tion with my husband, or with his children, or 
with the neighbors. God prospered me in the 
work of my hands. I fflt that my husband and 
his children hated me without cause. I was in- 
Uirmed that very much was said against me. I 
had once said in my house my faith is : " Take 
care of character, and reputation will take care 
of itself." My husband now told me: "Your 
reputation is very low." I received the state- 
ment iu silence, grieved at the change which had 
come over him. I felt as strong and as pure in 
character hs when, according to his own testi- 
mony, my reputation was high. 

For tbe sake of contrast, I will relate the fol- 
lowing: In June of the summer in which my 
husband first paid his addresses to me, and 
whicii had their commencement in August, a 
friend of mine gave me this compliment. She 
said a lady of Egreipont inquired of her if Miss 
Roys wa-i about to be married. She replied, 
not that she knew of. The lady says: "Mr. 

, of Sheffield, told va that a widower 

upon the plain is going to marry the best sjirl in 
Sheffield, and ive thought it must be Miss Roys." 
Twelve years later, another friend looked from 
the window of a house upon the plain, and said 
to the fiimily as she saw me entering the yard : 
"Mrs. Little is coming in." A matron, who had 
been nursing the sick of the neighborhood, 
sprang to look out at the window, saying : " I 
do want to see that woman. I have been two 
years in the neighborhood, and I have not 
heard as much said about any other person as 
about her; and I have not heard any one speak 
in her favor except yourself." She had a glimpse 
of my face, and said further: " Why, she doesn't 
look as if she need be very bad." But why so 
much said against one who harmed nobody? 
Simpl? because I did not create peace and 
remove evil from the hearts of tbe motherless 
children, or of the father who would not be com- 
forted because they were not. I had ceased to 
write or to speak their faults. I ever stood 
leady to counsel when my counsel should be 
asked. And I was endeavoring to teach the 
motherless daughters indmiry and religion, by 
doing my own proper work, and perfofming my 
own devotions, and suffering my little child to come 
unto Christ in his appointed way, in doing unto my 
neighbors as I woiM that they should do unto me, 
aiiU especially in fretting not mj^self because of 
evil-doers ? What if they did not love to be thus 
taught ? It was their mother's desire, and I was 
working with reference to an examination where 
she would be present, and a report be read of 
all my doings as well as their own. And if it 



should then h'^ said of me, " She hath done 
what she could," I should have an abundant re- 
compense, yea, a great reward. 

One thing was apparent to me which tbe pub- 
lic did not see. My husband saw me just as his 
children saw me. But he was silent. The 
children seemed to see it wrong that I and my 
offspring should be partakers with them of their 
father's Jove or money. That they should see 
thus, or that they should find sympathizers, did 
not surprise me. I had mingled with the 
world enough to learn its ways here ere I under- 
took the great work of attempting to do right, 
" not to speak of the difficulty of doing what 
should be pronounced right by others." But my 
husband had not thus mingled with the world, 
nor thus learned. He had let alone the business 
of sympathizing with the unfortunate, because 
the business of helping himself demanded all his 
powers. He had heard the popular voice 
against step-mothers, and had admitted it as 
truth in which he had no concern. He had 
seen me take in charge schools which were dis- 
orderly and noisy, and reduce them to order and 
quiet. He had not been present to see by what 
method I had eflecled this. He only saw re- 
sults. He confidently locked for similar results 
from my influence in his family. But he felt in 
duty bound to abolish every method I pursued 
to which his children brought a remoi:istrance 
with the sanction of some body without. I 
yielded with due deference to him whom I was 
bound to revere; and just in proportion as this 
combined counsel gained influence, did discon- 
tenf, and hatred, and variance, and strife in- 
crease, and my husband, and children, and 
neightiors seem to see me to be the author of it all. 
But my husband's outward or worldly prudence 
did not forsake him. He did not openly censure 
where he could prove no fault, but put lui the 
stoic, set trials at defiance, and waited to see 
what would come of it. He gradually witlidrew 
from pubhc worship and social visits or gather- 
ings, except to go by himself among his married 
children. But he was a pattern man in all busi- 
ness transactions as well as in his agricultural 
pursuits. In these he buried himself as much as 
possible ; coming to his house for food and lodg- 
ing and to greet his family with his accustomed 
gravity, and to suffer none but his niotherlesa 
children to pour into his ear a persona! v/ant or 
a personal complaint, lest ha should be tempted 
to give unto others what hy heritage belonged 
unto them. 

This I saw written in dqrV characters, which 
none but myself was HuUcred to read. There- 
fore I was not at liberty to publish, lest I should 
add to all my other real and seeming crimes 
that of libel. Now that he hath written it out 
by his own deeds, I feel at liberty to pubhsh, 
that when my friends shall again ask, T-F7io,has 
broken the covenant? Who dissolved the union ? 
they may read and judge for themstlves. 

When in my earlier years I entered into 
covenant with a Heavenly Bridegrrom, whose 
coming dissolves that of the earthly, he gave me 
a Testament sealed with hia own blood, be- 
queathing rich legacies, and among them the fol- 
lowing : " I will not leave you comfortless." 

To prove that he hath not broken his pro- 
mise, I will now copy from my correspondence 
(if I may be allowed the expression) with this 



A MOTIIKK's peace OKFEKlNf;. 



29 



Divine pereonn(^c, or the private Jounikl which 
ti'Ua of my tekiug and ruceiving from bim. 

I1....V I ,■■,;. It- v.i;.;,.Vi.— Tho iMt I 
iiily a.-* n mcni- 
l for Diy in»r- 
riam- lu Mr. LilUf, to wlii*o huiuu I i.xpoct lu 
rimovo, aixl in Iho S<«ripKir<' •"•n«o, l»'nv<i my 
(li'.ir lather . ■ 
tlxni uuJ 



\ > II rhaDKCtli nut. ii::!* truiii lvL-t:|>.t my iiuu<i lu 
jrtacL. >fay a heavenly latlur'ji bk-saiojr ntt<'f!»! 
iiio wherovLT I go, ami I I'O maik- n 1 
A nd oh ! may my dear parentjj bo ma ' 
in the deoUno of life, pcac-oAil in dealh, ui:u 1 
liil in eternity. 

Ajjnl \2(L — May ^raco bo given mo to i: 
charge the oblik^utioun of tlio covenant into wliich 
I have now entered. 

Ayrtl \Ath. — Caino with Mr. Littio to his hoose, 
which is now mr earthlv home. 



to b. ;. 

It risolulions, do- 

pondiug uu divuie ui<t lu ciiubid mc to perfomi. 

In regard to myself, I imrposo on no day to omit 

the reading of the word of God, aud prayer. 

Yes, prayer. Hero is my sweetest ho|)e. Let 

:: ' • - n.s I fdiall remain undiT this rn • 

it the morning and evening sacr; 

at Jacob. I^t mo daily seek In 

-rraco to lead me to a proper discharge 

• . .'A this family. Let me daily ask for 

tht;m, cacli of them, the especial blessing of God, 

for the Spirit to lend th'in by rep<iitaiico and 

' "' ' ....... ^ ■■ 'he world. Let 

. patience, and 

, or sufferings, 

. consequence of my 
Let mo ever seek 
to f» .-;$i-.-< aii'i in iLik.-i toward them the spirit of 
kindn'-'^o Rfid i»tVp<-tii)n. 

Sir >-lf-inlcr- 

ch; ^l to those 



b« guvcruod by itiu ruio to tiu by Ui(.-iii na I 
would that one in similar oircnmi!t;inccs aliould 
do by my own. Kvor acting as in view of tlio 
judgment of the great day whrn I shall meet 



to-day have led me to fix upon Friday next aa a 

day of ! ' ■ ' • ' • - !,iu 



a of 



' - ' r.ccortiing 

' hat, as a 
due from mo ; i 
c nfTcctioa and ' 

X weeks 



iheir 
to tl 

M;. 
wifo. : are 

and : > t' 

fiuthfui:iiv-s due in V..v 

if ay 2S0i, 1837, .~ 
last Friday I loft tlv 
this, my now abo<le. 

more in accordance w. , 

pected, and I can not hn\. enterum stT' 
that I may hero be b]os.-;o<l and m.-ido a 

June Ilk, 1S37. W'.lntf'idy Eve, — My \,ua- 
b.'iud absent Left this morning for Xow-York. 
The fimily retiretl in safety and comfort, through 
a kind and merciful providence. My retlectious 



. are ill© way^ of Prx-vi- 
dtiictj. May v.ii uw with onr n. ".r 

liandji liml to do. boon sliall we in 

'.1th h-nd our flret rc-citation in Uie 

.... .,.ol f.- " • - ■ ^' •■ • —The 

Eight ]. I he 

:i a happy < ■ --l- 

iug. May the Saviuuf blcad tliu liuiii lo the 

iioart.'^ of th«> oiirht. .md of all others in Uic 

to take rcf\igo in Him 



. '"'1 
conduct me 10 a rigiit discharge ottlie Uuiii-a and 
obligations which this vow impoFea upon me, 
and all my covenant vowsl aud incline the heart 
of myself and companion to walk in Uio path 

-e. My 

, .-. ^ ... .J than I 

lo4.>ked tor. In liie iriend that God ha^ given 
me. I llnd more tliat is agreeable to my own 
mind than I expected. 

22 J, tVidatj F.i'f. — .Aft^r fptirincr for the 

night, my 1 " ' ' ' ::ot 

slct-p. Thi Iig 

•■ ■' viy hu.-i....,-. ,i...,.i.-. . . - .. »,-,.; )■.../.....-.. i of 

' f my doingii in relation to visiting and 

1 know my inclination may, and probably has 
led me astray in these particulars, as well as in 
others. I would be humble and reform wherever 
I have erred, and seek to be more fully informe<l 
of hi.s mind. 

Where w the sincere and candid friend of 
wliom I may inquire what are my faults in cba- 
rncter and ever)- d;iy deportment ? that when 
thus informed I.may make it the subject of my 
prayers, and the object of my every day efforts 
to correct them. 

W\ ' • ' lof 

good JT. 

>■' .-r- 

ral 

Atler tiic exaiiipk- ot Abrahain, riij<' lar.) and 
sarrificc sloth, prid". w^rldly-mindf 'in<^«. and 
the sinful j irt 

that in the • ay 

:-'■••';■! .i.r. L.' i^.-i J. n, ■....--. o will 

I ■ i le. 

A.— My husband k' no fr tlie rest of 
the week ta New- York. Xf. and un- 

happy Still fh" '••,)b'-^'>t of mercies. 

I .-dl have 



i&l 

I he 

. .elf 

i ; to pray that he wid make us 

. ach other, and lead us in our duty 

to ail , U.at if it bo God's will that I shall become 

a natural mother, ho will proj^ire mc for the 

event ; causo \i\ai it rp.<nilt in liis glory, and the 

linal good of all cotmected Vi-ith it 



30 



A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 



Nvv. 18i^, ISST. — Resume ray diary, which I 
Lave several weeks neglected. Fear that I shall 
break a resolution I made in earlier life, namely, 
that the cares of a famDy shall not deter me from 
writing, as I have thought is too often the case 
with my sex. Extract from a sermon by Rev. 
Mr. Turner: "An impenitent sinner can not be 
indiflerent in the midst of so much divinity as 
reflects from the countenance and demeanor of 
the faithful Christian." 

Dec. id, 1837. — Another winter has commenc- 
ed. May I enjoy the presence of my Saviour, a 
sense of his love, and conformity to his precepts, 
that my soul may not mourn a mental winter 
fiercer than nature feels. Being circumstanced 
to prevent so regular an attendance at the house 
of God upon his holy dayas I have hitherto been 
hccustomed to, I fear lest I shall misimprove tbe 
hallowed hours, and find barrenness in spiritual 
li'uit a consequence. 

my Saviour! be present to raise the heart 
of tby servant in heavenly contemplation and 
holy devotion on thy sacrtd day. Inspire her 
heart with prayer to heaven, arouse her from 
sluggishness, pity her frailty, pardon her crimes, 
guide her in duty to her frends, and prepare her 
so to live that thou mayest be honored; so to die, 
that to her it may be gain. 

31*/. — My husband tliis day complete=i his 
fifty-third year. May the ensuing year be one of 
many blessings to him ; blessings of provideuce 
and of grace, particularly the latter. 

Thankful should I be that my dearest friends are 
sjjared to me end to themselves through another 
year; humble for ingratitude, unbelief, and all 
sin which our heavenly Father has recorded 
against us. May his forgiveness be sought and 
obtained ; may his bles.sing attend and spirit 
guide us through another year, if we may be 
spared; and if called from time before its cJose, 
may we be found in Christ, and raised to an ever- 
enduring home where peace and love exist with- 
out mixture. 

Jan. \st, 1S3S. — Another year has passed, 
fraught with mercies toward me. I have learned 
to look for ill in tliis sinful world. Yes, we must 
constantly witness iu ourselves and others, that 
sin and suffering which shall move us to pity and 
deplore. 

But mercies more than I dared expect, more 
than I could reasonably hope for, have been and 
are still bestowed upon me. The powers of body 
and mind, the comforts of a home with all needful 
supplies, the blessing of friends, particularly the 
kiadness and afitction of a bosom companion, the 
various means for an increase of grace and know- 
ledge, are all occasions for devout thanksgiving to 
the great Author of my being, and of all my bless- 
ings. But what returns do I make? I have 
occasion for tbe deepest humiliation and abase- 
ment before that exalted Being the High and 
Holy One who inhabiteth eternity, and jet con- 
descendeth to dwell with him that is of a humble 
and contrite .spirit. For more than six years I 
have rejoiced in the evidence of pardon through 
the great Mediator, the Son of his love. But when 
I examine into the degree of patience, meekness, 
kindness, forbearance, forgiveness, charity, self- 
denial, fidelity, and all the Christian duties re- 
quired in the Gospel, which I have been led to 
practice, I can truly say with Paul, What I 
would, that I do not ; and the evil I would not, 



that T do. I liavc endeavored this day to ask for 
an increase of vital piety ; wisdom to guide me 
in all duty and in every difficulty, and grace to 
prepare me for every event awaiting me this year, 
particularly in reference to the expected event of 
soon becoming a natural mother, that if I may be 
spared, I may rightly meet and endure the bodily 
sufferings which are the effect of sin, that if it 
may be the will of my Father in heaven, I and 
mj^ offspring may live to glorify him on earth ; 
but whatever his appointments, that he will pre- 
pare me and my friends for the event, and make 
all work for our greatest good and his glory. 

The pen, which I have hitherto regarded as a 
means of improvement and usefulness, I have 
much neglected of late. Resolve to use it daily 
in communicating to others, or writing for my- 
self if health and ability be given me. 

To whom shall I go, liut unto thee, my God? 
Thou only hast the words of eternal life. Purge 
thou me, and I shall be clean ; wash me, and I 
shall be whiter than snow. To thee do I com- 
mit my interests for time and for eternity. Bless 
thou me, even me, my Father! and bless my 
dcHr companion and his children, and all my 
friends, for thy mercies' sake. 

"itli. Sabhath. — Detained from attendingaslhad 
purposed at the house of God, where the sacra- 
ment is administered, and a new year's discourse 
had in connection with the funeral services of 
Mr. Albert Clark, who died by suicide. I feared I 
should be unreconciled at heart if deprived attend- 
ance at the house of God to-day. 

Remarkably mild and pleasant this first portion 
of sacred time in the new year. May any who 
are destined this year to wake up hi eternity wit- 
ness the dawn of an infinitely more glorious Sab- 
bath ; and those who may survive, bring forth 
more fruit to the glory of God, than any preced- 
ing year. Amen. 

J/arc/i ll</i,1838. — Again enjoyed the privilege 
of attending divine service in the house of God 
on his holy day, after being absent through the 
winter. 

Oh ! for a heart to record the goodness of my 
merciful preserver, who hath helped me hitherto ; 
who has granted me recovery from a bed of sick- 
ness to a good measure of health and strength. 
May grace be given me rightly to improve the 
blessing, and to use the powers of body and mind 
still granted me, for the glory of God and the 
benefit of my family and fellow-creatures. On 
the 20th of January last I became the mother 
of a living child. 

My daughter! My first-born! A helpless little 
bein?, but destined to an endless existence. Oh! 
the responsibilities of a mother! the painfully- 
pleasing emotions that fill her mind as she gazes 
upon the dear precious gift, the little stranger 
introduced into a world of mingled ^^leasure and 
pain, joy and sorrow ; where dangers beset every 
step of life's path, and death sooner or later puts 
an end to the mortal life, and introduces to an 
endless state of inconceivable bliss or of unutter- 
able woe. Born into a world where tlie nature 
we inherit is averse to holiness and prone to evil, 
and where temptations to wrong are constantly 
attending us. In view of these truths, I would 
hasten to consecrate the gift to the Maker and 
Giver, beseeching thee, my God and Saviour! 
that thou wilt, if consistent with thy will, pre- 
serve the life ihou base given to old age, and 



A MOTIIKRS PKACK OFrEKISG. 



31 



protect Troro natural and moral rrilii; guide in 
till- way of virtue ; and may nhe 8fo nnd do(;oo»l 
iu llio land oi liie living. 

Htit, u*iuvv nil, do I implore for her tlmt ni-w 
binli I"', til" wattr and Sinrit,) williout wliiih she 
iiin not iM'.i iho Author of la r ht'xf^ in ] <'BCi\ 
May niio b« n nuljtct of thy kintfd""' ' '"uri""*. ' ' 
my Si4viourI and •p<nd an et«'niity <>f liks-'wdiiiKi 
ill ctlil.raUiiK thy praitk-a in the song of rcdifm- 
inj^ love. 

K ,r 1 .. ii,,. privile((« of thy sen'ant to train lier 
>. 1 her to do it in the nurture and ad- 

li 'lie lx)rd. Amen. 

iSiie (."oujnieDced her exiatenco Ix-fore twelve, 
SHf'irdnv riipht The tlr<>l d»vlii;ht tier evu he- 
1. ■ -■ ■ "' . -).e 

1 r>r lier may be i to d©- 

\ tio path of duly i- ..er; but 

I pray it may nnher enable mo belter lo judjce 
of my duty to tho-ie to whom I sustain that rela- 
l oo, aiiicitific mycolf what I would another should 
<io by my own in exchaneo of circumatance.". 
M ly I ri^'htly jud^'o and act as taught by the 
priHtp's ol my Saviour. 

1 do not ank for my child worldly richer, but 
may she have food and raiment conTenicnt for 
her, and )>o enriched with treasures of divine 
grace, such ai are be».towed upon t' o humble 
and devout. May she feed upon the bread of 
life ; drink of the wau-r which r'hriPt piveth ; be 
clotlied with rol^ca of a Redeemer s ri)jhle<>us- 
n-w. ard ornamented with a meek and ^uiet 
spirit. I crave for her the lieanhj whiili consisiH 
of a ccnibinalion of the (.'hrifiian (iracea ; the 
/lonor which cornea from (tod only ; the I'Utuure-f 
which tlow from a well-apcnt life, and peace and 
coinniunion with God her Saviour. 

'2'lfi. — My miiid is loo chcerleea of late. It 

."oems in a : - vrrcome by the carea and 

perplexitic- • fall to my lot I fear 

that I loo i: -1 a rf pininjf or complain- 

ing spiiit, notwiiiisi&ndioK the mercies which at- 
tend mu and mine. Ilavinc food and raiment, 1 
would ever ^>e content. Thiii is a slate of trial; 
at.d whatever crosses, diMippointmenti), diflicul- 
Uvf, privations, or provocaiion.s providence per- 
miia lo fdil to my nliare, I duphi to bend with 
pubmi!*sion ; acknowledfieit merited at the hands 
of him who holds the destitjiea of all at hia con- 
trol, and who dispenses in wi*dom and mercy. 
May the trial of my faith work in me patience. 

'iO(h, — Purposo to bepn on to-morrow, to mskf* 
pre(>aration8 to change our residence to a farm 
eaht of our village. 

" We've no kbiillDg city here." 

Kvery removal should remind ua of our final 
removal to an ever-abiding borne. May all our 
d.tjs be spent wiUi a wise reference to thexe 
cDHcerns, and when the changea of life u 
Hilh us, may wo remove to a home in t 

Have lately coram* need reading the I'-^rv m 
.lob with Sciitt'd rcmark^^, fe<ling that such has 
l>een my a ate of mind of late, I need the iii- 
f-Uuct oa which may be fathered from it. 

/t/>n/ 3«i, 16.$.'', Tu'sdoy. — This day removed 
to mir new place of abode; not knowing ; 
tiiiiiLTs that await ua here, neither should wo 
au.Mous to know. Our anxiety should be i> 
know and attend unio pnacut duty, leaving 



t vents with Oed who orderelh wiaely. Have 

loft H>roe pr-- '■ - ■••■'•' 'tnt 

things; bui >-T 

than many i I 

hope tliui adviintsge to uh may rr-nuli Imii the 
change. My window-t v'v«* « vif-w fif thr tem- 
ple of liod, where it 1 - vi- 
iege to worthip, and w ut 
Ibo heart to heuvei-, t- •> 
tion mid sin never d vr, 
peace, and harmoty, lii i^ 
a view of the udmirablo range of roiiuniain', be- 
neath «ho«e shade I have passed thu yi-ar* of 
my childhood and youth, atiil the home of my 
dear parent*. 

Ohl D.ay I never, w! ' ' •' - ' .^e 

to ofTer the satritlce of n • :i- 



owuig lo i»ui.iily woakiites, ia yt I uuiiko i1i(.>h« ot 
the years that ar*' pi»»«<>d when c^irmticing 
emplojnient for i us I do 

nut leave the <\< • ctionN 

IT — ■ ' *= • 've 

ir 
ur: . ■ ive 

her bear my own maidrn name. Out lor several 
reiu-ons have concluded best to relinquish the 
idea, and hope I may never feel or express dis- 
snlisl'aclion ; but fetl happy in having her bear 
the name of her of old ' " at Jesus' feet. 

Like her, may she ch< ain the good 

part which can never 1 - ;.i her. 

11///. — I thif evening purpose in my heart to 
fet apart toniorrnw, (I'J'.li Apiil) being a year 
from the day ot my marriage, to pray for forgive- 
nena of sins in n-f.-rence to iluiies which ihia 
transaction . ■ • • . ..gr 

of (rod Upo; f, 

and lor gnK- ,_ ,. 'o 

lliis child ; that I muv ' -r 

to the ordiunnco of i ._ la 

manner, ani that I may \jm guided in ail ouiy 
toward the members of my family. Lord, for- 
give, and direct thy servant. 

Vltlt. — Have niiended the funeral of Daniel 

Forlies at the hou.«e where T hnr- r ! t' o 

scenes of the past year; have for t ■'•n 

the duiies, the trials, and the jo} - ; - to 

liie wife and mother. I see csuse tor deep 
humility of heart in view of a lack of doing 
good ei d of glorifyirg God by a well-ordered 
life and godiv convorsaiion. bv hnhit lal sell- 
comniai d si: ' ' " ' ' ' ar 

llial 1 have 

tion, forbear.. ..^ ^ - -a- 

tion as stepmother has given me oocasiou to 
exercise. 

I would this evening most humbly beseech of 
Heaven lo fortrive m!I thn tre-wpnwea of the ^>nsi 
\ («r, and It . . ' ■ ' '■' r- 

/iven. 1 W' • » 

, .- - X. „ ,. .11 

I . •■ year to c '9 

I, • I* pa.^1 yeui ; 

particuiaiiy the gif^ ol lii- the 

power" pir-'Ti h»-r «nd i ' Mnker 

: er. in- 
, a pro- 
• •■ -' 1 ' ■ ' oi .\ ui ;\ ^'t.. 

L)id. lii/ aervaui is uo worthy. H«ar thou 



32 



A MOTHER S PEACE OFFERING. 



her request, and answer and bless for thy mercy's 
sake in Christ Jesus. Amen. 

22d — Among causes of decline among pro- 
fessed Christians, as mentioned by our pastor to- 
day, is excess of cares, which struck me as ap- 
plying to my own case. May I guard against 
such cause and effect, and as diiBculties and 
trials present, may I by prayer and watchfulness 
overcome. Had I no trials I could not know 
myself, or practice patience. Without provoca- 
tions I could not exercise forbearance or forgive- 
ness. May the love and tender affection I bear 
my little Mary lead me to judge of ray duty to 
the offspring of a mother now in the silent tomb, 
and to act as I would one in like circumstances 
should act towards my own. 

21lh, Friday. — Have felt that the powers of the 
mind should be constantly cultivated in order to 
progress, or even to secure what is already at- 
tained ; and comparing my present with past 
efforts, see fit to resolve on a daily lesson in 
science, and commence to-day the perusal of Mrs. 
Lincoln's Botany, purposing to read attentively 
two pages per day. 

May 20th, 1838, Sabbath. — Fmer&\ of Mrs. 
Maria Wilcox, a near neighbor, one in whose 
society I anticipated much pleasure. Last Sab- 
bath she was taken ill ; now she is numbered 
with the dead. 

The providence and word of God have this 
day spoken loudly to us : " Be ye ready." Lord, 
help all to improve aright these instructions. 

21ih. — This day, accompanied by rny com- 
panion, have been permitted to bring my little 
Mary to the ordinance of baptism. My heart 
rejoices (although I see much to regret through 
the depravity of the human heart) in being per- 
mitted to come to the God who entered into 
covenant with our father, Abraham, to bless him 
and his seed after him, and consecrate this dear 
little immortal being, and plead with him to be 
her God, and sanctitier, and eternal portion. 

Jimedth, 1838. — Being this morning exhausted 
from too much labor when very weak, and too 
much excited by rebellious conduct in another, 
my frame v/as almost unnerved, and for some 
time I felt as if my powers were leaving me. I 
would not willingly ever endure again precisely 
what I then suffered. Would be more studious 
to be calm under every provocation which provi- 
dence permits that I shall endure ; knowing it 
to be duty from Christian principle, and in my 
present weak and nervous state, from regard to 
my health. Oh ! how do I feel the difficulty of 
administering reproof and instruction daily with 
becoming meekness, forbearance, and love. 

Nothing but ihe grace of God can enable me 
properly or successfully to discharge these duties 
in my present circumstances. Why should I 
after all the precious experience I nave had of 
his goodness hesitate to come to him in Jesus' 
name for large supplies of grace, that I may 
discharge duty aright ; and for his especial favor 
upon each member of my household. 

Arig. '3lst, 1838. — Completed my twenty-ninth 
year on the 8th iust. The summer now closing 
has been one of considerable nervous depression. 
My health has not been firm ; my cares many ; 
difficulties great ; and, alas I too much of sin 
in all my course. Too little prayer ; too little 
self-command and self denial, and faithfulness in 
duties. 



I am convinced that seasons of especial prayer 
should be resorted to by the Christian wtio would 
attain to a comparatively holy life ; and I would 
to-day (having perused the ninth and a part 
of tenth chapter of Nehemiah, with Scott's ob- 
servations) pray, often and particularly, for par- 
don of the past, and a preparation of liearc, bet- 
ter, and rightly to practice duty toward my hus- 
band and the elder six children who have been 
bereft of a natural mother, and toward my own 
natural offspring, who, perhaps is becoming the 
unconscious idol of my heart; that I may con- 
ceal that partiality which nature forbids to re- 
press ; and (remembering that she, with the 
whole human family, is by nature sold under 
sin) that I may have given me to seek for her 
that grace which shall prepare her, if she may 
live, to glorify God, and do good on the earth ; 
and if she shall be called hence, shall prepare 
her for the society of the blessed above. 

Dec. 23d, 1838. — Resume my long-neglected 
private journal. The past season fraught with 
scenes of good and ill, has been one of neglect 
in writing; one of much bodily weakness, at- 
tended with many cares, and great need of 
strength and ability. In the retrospect I think 
of little of interest to record. Have been m a 
state of mind tending to dejection much of the 
time. I have thought it owing to nervous irrita- 
tion, but perhaps the true cause is more in the 
state of ray affections than my bodily organs. 
Am of late encompassed with difficulties peculiar 
and trying, particularly as respects my duty to 
the youngest daughter of my husband's former 
wife. I have endeavored to lay the cause before 
God at his throne of grace, and ask strength and 
guidance. 

The eldest daughter is away at school this 
winter where I have strong hopes that she may 
improve in mind and manners. I have recently 
finished the perusal of Abbott's Young Christian, 
and have resolved to endeavor to practice his 
rules for the improvement of character. 

I will insert in this part of my epistle two 
articles which further tell my heart- workings 
during the year 1838. 

The first is a line addressed by myself to the 
daughter at school. 

Thanksgiving Eve, 27th Nov. 1838. 

Miss Anna: I hope you have spent the day, 
and are spending this evening in a manner be- 
coming a rational being and an intelligent mind. 

We did speak of sending for you to come home 
with Lucy this week, but finally concluded it 
might be pleasanter for you to come three weeks 
hence than now. Work has crowded ever since 
you left. No help to do housework until to-day, 
Mary Peaster has come to live with us. I will 
try to have Elizabeth here in three weeks if 
you come home then. Misses Goodrich (tailor- 
esses) here last week. Miss Austin (mantua- 
maker) finished hst Friday. Ephraim Birge 
staid with us one night last week. His friends 
were well. Mr. Stillman (house-joiner) has 
worked in the chambers three days, and made 
much confusion there. I presume you find the 
exchange from house-worJc to school-ivork a luxury. 
I really hope the hurry of business will soon be 
so far over with myself, as to allow of a little 
regular reading. Augusta is a pretty good girl. 
Mary as had and as good as ever. Your pa, not 



A MOTIIKKH PEACE OFFKRINO. 



83 



verv wf'll a fow dnrn pn^t. Tin* h"»ndkerehlef a 



rhankiHliving m nobler 
r. 
I uur«, aUvctiunatclj, L J. L. 



I Will fliTO SDBWi 

in tlio mind< of >- 



ry whifh mvv ftri«o 



C'Xcfpi u-i 'you' 1 )iu<i kiiniiv iijv.ua lier lu 
cull mo " mother." if Ihnt •• xM he nffr<»w»Mn to 
hor, sn'! it" nol, to i i- 

droAfiiiK rap. I tii ; 



her UnKht to fwl that lo be u*eful here, mi far 



bia -um: III 1,. 
woald liavo i 

1- 



.:,7 

wtirniap, ('tM iif iiovv tliH oiite,) 1 uiu-'l iii-<ko a 
ditily prMoiic.1 of retiriiijf to p'av with her — 
would ' . iour a* Farly 

as hiH li ' with ri-npecl 



written or i<poken lo me cither as OK'thir or kirn. 
Hat Ariiia \\ha dono many, very many thinf^s fir 
which my hfart has bleswcd hir; and when in 
the l>iit*m(SH of her spirit, in after years, f-he 
cunwxi me to my facp, I did not lay all the sin lo 
her charge, and prayed HtiU that (rod would 
bleea her. 

Now, that she is bit sscd in bcinir tho mo'.hor 
o( flvo chddren, I doubt not aho hns other views ' 
of duty, and that when this Offering of Truths 
Straiifter than Fiction, nhall roach her, she will 
receive it as from a mother. 

The next 81 tide which I copy i« a folded sheet 
labflffl. ''To he preperved." which wan ever | 
kept where, in cn^ of my dix'ca-'o, it would fall 
under the eye of :r erdi iiitfresiol in oxe^^'Uling 
mv will. It is 83 f^jllow.- : i 

Sept. 1S38 ! 

My " endowed with onifnary jrifta 

for a * 1 monthf. i* «n olji-ct of d«*ep 

p..!' • ■'- ' - ' - •■ ' ■■ .,- ,<|,e 

' nenced 

I, . . . : . 1 t<i her , 

m p%ni<:ularly anxiou". 
'! a mdo or two from our 

dwvlii.K. liavobiii ciUod lo leave their tender 
oil'Mpriotr. anti aJufnher in the ^^ave, sinro our 
removal her. 

Thin cir. r wiih a state of 

r '" ! ■' ' ' „ ... jifWl summer which 

I • il much ii[)on my liability to 

I' 11 this world, has told me how 

dear to my ht-ari are tiio inUrects of the little 
helplcm being committed to my care by her i 
Father in heaven. 

What I now write is in view of th<' troth that 

I ..".I (o lonve hor to the cnre nrid 

- and I would (in si-h a'ii>") 
t . my choice in a few importaiu 

yiiirt'ciiiara. 

Stiould such an event take place while her 
\ ndlioartcd fiith'^r io living, I would cari.esily 
• ntreat of him to forego the pleasures of h^r 
■ompany at liome. as fr ' '. ' 

rd habil« of hor eider .--i 
is not to have hnd tl.', . . ., .. . 

essential for thrir good in their earhest yeary. ) 1 
consider it would be unwi.«e to suffer her t*) r«- 
ooive the influence they would he likely to ex- 
ert. I would have her continually utd^ r the 
authority of a fema'e who would enforce obe- 
dience to reasonable commands : would have 



IcjjuH. ihiin enjoy ensu and in'i 


lit to a pious, 

• :i- .' .1 Mivi- 


to follow the h»-n* of h<-r"W!i 


■.:iO 


itilhu'ncc of ' 
I Bin fully 

\V ■ ■ ' .1 III ■■■tJl 

1 orrect in 


;iuthority and 

- • -']y 



The above was ponn<d when, in wrrtVr.-« and 
utter hcli)lo.«''nr.«.s in my.MelC and in -"» 

from man, I committed my way to ' If 

of my child. How he hath bnintjiii ;t i-, i-aas 
is to appear in tmciog her future history. 

DiAKY : Janunry \fl. 1 8.19. — Comtnencod the 
year under tho d«tr. d^ar. pntemal nwif; yes, in 
the dwelling that gave me birth. And uot only 
so. but the .«pot when? the Holy Spirit or^t wit- 
nessed with my ppirit that I wa.s born of God, 
that my sins wore iwrdoncd through the atone 
nient of thf ' - ' ' 

I did ind I knflt in tho ap.^rtmcnt 

wh> re 1 wa, ' mmuno with my Siiviojr, 

that I wiis returneu to my Bothol. Oh ! how 
sweet it wa." to bo there! How mr,nh nf my for- 
mer life, to memory <lcar, ; • ■ mind's 
viow! Such swoot seiiS<>n* nil i>e traD- 
«• "■ ' ' 1. But 
t 1 home 
...,,. . . ■'■-* to 

■ •. Olil III' y 

1' >nies. orsull rm 

tho dutie.i i«l llic way: thankful if i may iivc for 
tlie good of those who are very near atid dear to 
me. 

6tt, — Tliis day listened to a deeply inlenxntiiig 



2it*A.-7l his day my liliio daugiiter c<impletofl 
tlnj first year of liT f"c'«'''n'>e. 

I view her Mn'-,' i rr 

little frame ; nnd ig 

- and filCUllH'- \ >'■ 's -v. ;miii;r.'. :in 1 .•il.r'r 

!i ! I would consecrate the precious gi/t to 

■ 'f 

H.T. •■', particularly 

lur h" r - ition, and for 

thr- coiivi- irti.ly llitlitr. Have r» 

solved, I h. : .: on divine grace, top' 

daily for niv ciin'i m an audible roioo 'v 
projicnco. 



54 



A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 



January Isi, 1840. --The year which I was 
permitted to commence at my father's, it was my 
privilege to close there, and again to greet the 
opening year with tliose whose love and friend- 
ship I can not doubt ; parents, brethren, and sis- 
ters dear. 

Myself and little daughter have passed several 
days with them. How pleasant to hold inter- 
views with real friends ! Oh ! how pleasant ! My 
tongue or pen can not express what I feel on this 
subject. But does my heart feel in reference to 
the goodness of my Maker toward me in giving 
me friends, in prolonging my life to enjoy them, 
and in sparing tliem to me. But wliat is this 
favor even in comparison of the friendship prof- 
fered of him who is Lord of lords, and King of 
kings — an ever-living, all-powerful, and gracious 
Redeemer ? 

I have hoped that this Redeemer is mine. I 
have rejoiced in hope of the glory of God. 

Oh 1 I have desired that^my life might be spent 
in doing his will, and in glorifying him ou the 
earth. 

" Alas, and shall I ever live 
At this poor dying rate ?" 

I would look at the past year, but mj^ heart 
fain! s. Lord ! forgive, sanctify, and save. Di- 
rect thy servant this year, Lord I in all duty, I 
humbly pray thee. 

Oh ! that this principle, which I have, in years 
past, felt to be an abiding and governing one, 
might still be such, namely : If I suffer for well- 
doing, let ine take it patiently ; and if for evil- 
doing, let me not complain. 

I sigh for domestic happiness, and if denied 
mo, let me seek to know how far it is attributable 
to my own errors, and labor and pray daily to 
correct them. When waiting to decide whether 
to accept the proposal to enter the family to which 
I now belong, I laid the case before God, in pray- 
er, to be directed to choose the course in which 
I should most glorify him, and best promote my 
eternal well-being. 

Perhaps God is answering my prayers in his 
own best manner, notwithstanding my way seems 
to myself shrouded in thick darkness. 

Perhaps the Searcher of hearts saw in me 
wrong motive, and is visiting my sins with the 
rod. In either case, it becomes me not to mur- 
mur, but to acquiesce in his will and pleasure, 
and to praise him for tlie good which I experi- 
ence. My little Mary is a promising child, and 
her innocent prattle a sweet comfort. How good 
is the Loi'd in sparing her to me, and in giving 
me opportunity to administer to her wants ! I 
have been permitted to perform what I resolved 
the last year in relation to practicing devotion in 
her presence. 

17 th. — A visit the present week from sister 
EUzabeth and cousin 0. Newman. The hopeful 
conversion to Christ of the latter, has recently 
rejoiced my heart. 

I8th. — Intelligence has to-day reached us that 
the steamboat Lexington was burned upon Long- 
Island Sound last Monday evening, and that all 
the passengers except two or three, perished. 
Among the number was cousin Philo Upson of 
Egremont. Oh ! the distress, the heart-rending, 
and grief unutterable which this awful catastrophe 
has produced 1 Oh ! to think of the consterna- 
tioa that must have prevailed among the com- 



pany at that fatal hour — so suddenly and unex- 
pectedly called to look death in the face — in hope- 
less agony to commit themselves to the watery 
deep, to perish by drowning or by cold ! How in- 
scrutable are the ways of Providence ! IIow does 
it became all who survive to deplore the flite of 
the unfortunate sufferers, to heed the solemn 
warning, and seek henceforth to be constantly 
ready for the coming of the Son of Man ; to be 
doing what we can tor the glory of God, and the 
salvation of ourselves and others ! May tlie Spirit 
of the living God in mercy be given to make this 
event a blessing to surviving friends. To-morrow 
my little Mary completes her second year. I 
purpose to observe the day, to pray particularly 
for her conversion to God, and for grace to per- 
form my duty in Christian fidelity as a parent. 

March 1st, 1840. — Returned to-day from my 
fiither's, where I have spent the last two weeks 
with nij' little girl. 

SejH. 1st, 1840. — The last summer has been 
one of entire neglect relative to my diary, and of 
much trouble and anguitsh of spirit in my domes- 
tic relations and situation. May the Lord yet 
smile upon us, and give us to enjoy the blessings 
of peace, and fit us to join the happy flimily 
above, where is holiness, and harmony, and light, 
and love, without mixture and without end. 

Tlie following are resolves I was led to make 
on the day I completed my 31st year : 

'\st. Bear with silence those things that I feel 
need to be rebuked in the children. 

2d. Treat my husband with deference, kind- 
ness, and attention, and endeavor to cherish to- 
ward him that affection which I felt when I mar- 
ried him. 

3d. Rise early. 

Mh. Be three times a day on my knees in my 
closet. 

5th. Attend more to writing; and paste Pr. 
Humphrey's Tlioughts on Education saved from 
the Neiv- York Observer. 

Oh! that my Maker would lead me this year to 
be good, to do good, and to glorify him ! 

'• Be angry and sin not." Oh ! how difficult for 
me to feel a just indignation at that which is evi- 
dently wrong, and not indulge in improper re- 
sentment or bitter feelings I 

9///, Wed. — With my husband set out to visit 
his relatives in Harpersfield. Had but two days' 
notice to prepare for the journey, and from indis- 
position greatly unfitted for the undertaking. 

22(Z. — irrived home. My late visit is a source 
of peculiar satisfaction to me, in having afforded 
me opportunity to become acquainted with the 
kindred of my hus^band and child. 

January IQth, 1841. — Anna Little left for Har- 
persfield to-day witli the intention of spending a 
few months with her cousin, Mrs. Newell. I have 
strong hopes tnat this arrangement may conduce 
to her improvement, and to the good of the 
family. 

20//t. — This day my daughter completes her 
third year. I have endeavored to pray particu- 
larly for her, that she may experience that new 
birth which is by water and the Spirit ; that she 
may be new created unto righteousness and true 
holiness. Oh ! for a heart to praise the Lord for 
the mercies he has bestowed in the dispensationa 
of his providence toward her thus far I Surely he 
hath been better than my fears. And shall I 
act with unwavering confidence trust him for 



A mother's peack offering. 



36 



time to como ? Yen, for all t il for 

her, for bodj and for soul, for u, - r ctor- 

uily. 

211k, — With my hn«hsnd nnl rWM rfwitH u- 
my falhcr'H. I liter-, i 

dear, paicnial nM)t 
other yoar. I 
our family. I 

ar.-" •• " '-r-. .. : \:.., 

he . u each ol us lor ail hui holy 

IIJ,. — Witry Liiilo has boon Iroubli-*! with cold, 
which apitcan* to ttiTt-ci her lunex. Thin at timon 
caiueH ino sonic alarm. It .st dixcaHe is sentin^; 
upon them. How frail oir Ixnlies ! The H>\i\, 



volo hvnifir tu iiM Btrvicf. 

2IJ»^— My child, who ban been several weeks 
ill, is attain able to go out witii mo to church. Oh I 
for a Kratefiil heart for the mercies of niy God. 

3 ' ' ■" ■' houao of Go<l to-day; 

Hit -, who is ill. 

J.' ., i . . -lit t<>- i>'V ti n^MJst in 

taking care ol motiier, who is \ .May 

our heavenly Father, if he can _. with 

hifl holy will, aKHin restore her to l.culih. 

14/A, — To-day sent A note to cousin Helen, 
sfK . ' : of the things which coDcem the 

so . 

... , .17, while busied with •''> > '- ,««« 
of the world, and entfip'^d in plannit..- 
ture, suddenly the t>ell struck and .• 
mind to think of a 8t>ul recently spt-d to the 
world of Bpiritn. I stopped my pursuita for a mo- 
ment, and listened to count the nge of the re- 
cently departed. It was tweiity yearp. At our 
dinner we had had conversation relative to the 
qualities of teachers employod in Slu-flleld the 
la'«t year. Mi<w Murlha Ward, formerly a pupil 
of mine, ranked with the highest, in the estima- 
tion of the committee present. Koforo night, in- 
formation camo that fhe had finished her work 
on earth. Yes, the blooming Martha has been 

By JmUi'i r««i*tleM h&nil." 

Hut she had confessed Christ before men, and 
DOW we may hope she is present with the Lord, 
in the Panwii^e above. 

." -d. — My diary has been reglect*'] 

for ■<, while I have been called to pa*- 

thr ., aid afTlirtivo s.?enc<». 

" iiy dear mother, has been called 

awn ' labors <>n e.'irth : from her family 

and her Im-nd'*. Ah I the scenes of this busy, 
bustling world will never, never more share her 
attention. I look at the verdure and the h;of)m 
of this lovely seas mi, and reflect that the eyi-s of 
my dear mother will never ga7.o on t* -^ ■ ■ 
The scenes I love seem to bring a 
delight. But why should I mourn?! : i ... 
comforting awurance that she is joinmg in the 
.song of the rodeeme<L She deoea.sed Wednesday, 
May 8lh, half-past eight r.M. Was buried Satur- 
day Hth, at ten a.u. Sermon at the house by Mr. 
Brfldf>rd, from the wordn, " S<i sh-iU wo ever be 
with the Txird." Hymns sung, 615, «16, 61S, of 
the Church Psalmody, to the tuuofl Sunderlaud, 
Harford, and Kambi&. Uerage waailfty-four. The 



Wednewlny »> 

t ' (I, V I'A'll 1. 



death, I'ameUo, mj eldest sister, was rrjoidng io 

hope. 

n '. 

ful 
Ir, 

la-i, ., „ 

excursion row 

iith.—Uhv . 

and visited my im^luera graw. iij' - 
a change in the aspect of our family i. 
ly favorable to ray own comfort and jl<il ■.. My 
health is mending, and I le'l myself compara- 
tively blessed. Oh! that nil the good gif'-* ft 
my merciful Father may be sanctified ULt" • '\ 
through the word of God and prayer ; and inaj 
I have wisdom and grace as I shall need I 

To-day intelligence of the death of Morton 
Birge, of Galena, III., thirl son of my husband's 
eldest sister, by drowning while bathing. I'urk 
an! ways of 

Tl . liundre<l 

wil: other, cai..- ■■ i • .f 

death by drowning. Both young men, the eldest 
thirty. Both were, and had been for many 
years, the professed friends of Christ, 

July 4th, i>abUtUi. — Christ's death commemo- 
rated. 

On the last communion, I was with my sick 
mother. It was the last Sa*~^ ■ ' ' r life. 
To-day my two eldest si.'^ters i 1 into 

wvenant to be tbe Lord's, and ; .. ...■• f m- 

blems of his body broken and biood shed for 
sinners. 

One year to-day I partook of an excollent 
supper prepared by my mother's hand». Tho'igh 
our earthly friends die, our Saviour over lirtth, 
and those who deep in him are 1 '.e-i~ed. 

Aug. M.' , iMi .^aiinW.— To-day completea 
my thirt; -r. 

In lh<' iif the past year, I see much 

cause for graiiiude to God, and much for self- 

aba^empnt hf>fore him. H<^ in his pr^ri'iT"^ 

' ■ life with tl.. • ' i 

'f our h" 

• ■.- .. .-.dly n- • 

taken from mo a wi 
and by his grace h.-L-- 

to seek the Saviour. He has kept me from fail- 
ing into outward neglect of religious duties, 
though I have so far come short in the atTectiona 
of my heart and the tenor of my life. 

I am more fivor^v' ' - • ' ' ' — ' '',■ 
than a year ago. M r 

graciously remove i: ........... 

lead us all to love that which is good, and pur- 
sue it. 

Ori.2d. 1 "^ 1 1 .—Mrs. Hirge, my husband's eldest 
sister, with her daughter and (amUy, arrived, on a 
visit. 

&lh, TW.'iiv Ev<nin^. — Had a sca.son of prayer 
with si.ster Birge, and made an agreement with 
her to go to a throne of grace on sucoeediag 



S6 



A mother's peace offering. 



Tuesdays at eight p.m., to pray especially for the 
coDversion of her brother, my husband. 

1th. — This morning- our friends left for home. 

12(1. — A. letter from Mrs. Newell, informing 
us of the death of lier mother (sister Birge) on 
the morning of the 12th insl. Two weeks did I 
resort to my closet at the appoitiled lime, little 
thinking that her spirit had fli:'d to unseen 
worlds; yea, I doubt not to a mansion in the 
skies, where prayer is turned to praise. 

I may no longer unite with her in prayer for 
the obJFct above spe<Mfifcd; but she has long 
prayed, and if I may live, let me not cease to 
pray that her praters may yet be answered. 

I will hero extract from a letter addressed to 
me by the daughter of Mrs. Birge, who accom- 
panied her on her last visit to my husband, her 
brother. 

my dear Aunt ! how little did we think, 
when parting froai our friends, that the angel of 
death would so soon come among us and lay his 
hand upon such an idolized object of our affec- 
tion ! Yet so it was. 

1 suppose from the moment she first felt that 
any tiling w^as the matter, there was no hope for 
her, though we were not much alarmed, as we 
supposed it a sudden cold. She first comphiined 
(about two hours after setting out for home) of 
a slight sickness at the stomach, and said she 
could not swallow. I think she did not take a 
spoonful of any thing from the time she left you; 
yet her strength held out remarkably, so that 
she appeared quite cheerful when we reached 
sister Newell's, at tlie close of the second day. 
Her physician sui-iposts it was a sort of apo- 
plexy, produced in a great measure by her recent 
afliiciions. 

It seemed at first as though I could not sur- 
vive her death. Yet I did survive. But oh 1 
how has ibis world, (which once appeared so 
bright and beautiful,) how has it changed! Yet 
the thought that this is not our continuing city 
enables us to live on, and strive to perform the 
duties that devolve upon us until our time shall 
come. M. B. 

DiAiiT: Dec. list, 1841, Tues. — Returned from 
my broiiuT's, where I have been spending a few 
days, to get the change needful for my health. 
Suffer from chronic affection of the stoaiach, and 
sometimes apprehend tliat it will soon wear me 
out. 1 feel anxious to do what I can for the 
promotion of health and continuance of life, on 
account of the religious training of my child. 
If God sees fit, I desire to live, and have grace 
and wisdom to traiu her for him ; but if he pur- 
poses otherwise, I desire to acquiesce, and to re- 
joice in the truth that he reigneth, and will do 
all his pleasure. 

I merit his chastening ; yet he mingles in my 
cup unnumbered and unmerited mercies. 

Feb. 2-l<7i, 1842. — Was taken ill with measles 
on the 31st Dec. Employed a physician Jan. 
5th. My stomach became very irritable, and I 
sufl'ered a daily sinking until the 15th Janu- 
ary, when I was brought to death's door. 

Tiien was my disease rebuked, and I began to 
amend. 

Walked from my bed with assistance 23d Jan., 
and on the 25th rode to my father's, where I 
have spent four weeks, receiving those attentions 



which contribule to improve feeble health. My 
lit le daughter had the disease lightly, but at- 
tended witli a very s-evere cough. She was 
taken to her Grandpa's the day she completed 
her fourth year, the time fixed upon in my owu 
mind for commeLcing to teach her to read. I 
took with me ihe MotJier-'s Own Primer, and be- 
gan to give her a short exercise in readiog once 
a day. 

March Ath, 1842. — Our son Lucius' wire has 
become the mother of twins, two little girl". 

May the blesMng of their Maker and Giver rest 
upon them; the first-burn of a new generation 
to this hou-e. 

April I2th. — Five years to-day I entered the 
married state. 

Have occasion for deep humiliation in view of 
my unprofitableness; and for gratitude that I 
have been sustamed under the variotis trials I 
have experienced. Would anew ask of my 
heavenly Father wi,=dom and grace to prepare 
me for duties or trials before me. Have spent 
the last week in my father's family, attending my 
broihers and sisters sick with measles. How 
thankful should I be for being permitted to sup- 
ply the place of luy departed parent toward my 
younger brothers and sisters, at such times aa 
those iu which they feel most their loss ! 

This evening attended the marriage of our son 
Ralph to Mi,-s Sarah Boardman, at htr father's. 

May the blessing of Abraham's God I'est upon 
the married pair; and tfey, being clad in Ghiist's 
righteousness, be permitted to sit down at the 
marriage-supper of the Lamb. 

Oct. llth, 1842. — This day set apart, in my 
own mind, for private humilation and prayer, that 
God will assist me to become spiritually minded, 
and prepare me to retiiit temptation; to endure 
the trials, crosses, or provocations I may meet in 
the domestic circle, with meekntss and paiience. 

I have felt of late that disease is gradually fit- 
ting me, ere long to depart to the world of 
spH'its. I am now somewhat better, though illy 
able to endure all that seems needful in my pre- 
sent situation. Oh ! for gra^^e to enable me to 
lise above the world ; to rejoice continually in 
God, and to be faithful in the discharge of all 
duty 1 

Lord, wilt thou hear my prayer for help to love 
thee more and serve thee better, aud so to live 
as to be ready when thou shalt call for me. 
Amen, 

Kor. 1st, 1842. — Have to-day prayed especially 
in reference to my own and my cnmpanion'n 
spiritual state, that we be fitted by divine grace 
for a final reception info the Paradise abo^ e. 

24:th, Thanksgiving. — More comfortable in the 
domestic circle, and hope lor continued improve' 
ment. 

January \s(, 1843, Sabbath. — Cousin Eliza C, 
married to Dr. M. at the close of afternoon ser- 
vices in church. 

May this N'ew Year be a better than all former 
years, in that I may be more humble, more holy, 
more diligent in the work assigned me. 

My health poor, though able to be about the 
house most of the time, and to go out. 

3d. — Our son Robert married to Mias Cornelia 
Eldrid, of Salisbury, Ct. 

March 1th. 1843. — Returned to my home after 
an absence of seven weeks, spent with my father 
and brethren, for benefit to health. 



A MOTHKK's I'KACK OFFKRINO. 



37 



Aftrii 4tK 1844,— To-dar p«n»ed my journal 

i; 

r< , iiol knowing; fio 

tl i\; M 1 then ex- 
|)rt->-<<i .ii ii.y ji'ii.'iiHl. 

I li^vM litiiniMl the truth. " In th« world to 

•.!■ '■ ■ - ■ • •• ; ' ' • • ^ ■ ■ 
(i . 

f. And Mball 1 nut then irujtt hiiu i 

tl:: ■• 

J/.iy iJlit, 1S41. — llnvo been laid usido from 
lal>'>r Mio IrtMi flvo w<H'k(>, but am lo-di*y able to 
n - f my child, and my no 

(• her. On hor Hccount I 

ii ■ ' ' ■ •■•■"•■ 

I' 

of tnaL Uay tio (five me a (^rateiui liearl, and 
blew my btnof-tetois abuiidanlly. 

June 2d, 1.S41.— Our Sundny-fl?' ■ 
ir*d l< -day. My child, whoxe i: 
tfmjiorfd and eteninl, aro so near 
whiiiii its incl'W'iiro."*. Tijin I I's'^ 

|.nv. '.-'.■ \U- -■... i... I i;: 'til .,'■ I : 



fifilt year, i 
been spared 



thirty- 
vi lo luan bnvo I 
wltich 



*■ titand thick ttiroDKh all tlic land 
To puab me to the tomb." 

Oh I thitt I may boncerorth bo moro vnse and 
more lioly ! 

Drr \'bth, 184-t. — Rosolve that I will endeavor 
to U.S.' niv pon in iloiiiir eood. 

•■' ' ' • ' • •■ - - -' ' npart bv mv 
•.. ,..d. .May' I 

Si,. ; .. , -ly, and so re- 

solve, that w ; God my spiritual 

strcDi;!!; IV. :-. 1 I bo better pre- 

{' .tuulhcr year than here- 



In proirpoct of bcoominK n seoond time a 

. li , I I I . . , • •! . I'll- ;/ ,1. .,f 



in hiJi glury. 
Junt \tL 1845. — Our Sunday-school ro^rtnin- 



Luru lui u,l \.. 
On ihM 2<i 
mollicT <if a '. 
tir.sf. has i \ 



last T waa made the 



CuUie. Nul iiiul nil liiu CittuH-a ut tiiy li<^-nrl-lli-ilri 

have l»een rfrnovnl, b'lt tdat I l-avo ••'<-<->nie 



'i"-* 



Tr. 



I Lecture, i brought my i' 

j of bapti-^m. (lavr- 'i;:-; t' 

j My hn9l)and ■ i 

! K. HuUurd a; r 

' little son, 

l>ivine Saviour, graciously lay tliy hands as 
I upon til' - • '•' • "■ • - •1 !■ ■ -■! them. May thoy 

live to i!id in the c(»iii;nfj 

I world j 1 tj' wlio yhall cvle- 

j brato tliy piuiacs (or fvcrun're. Amen. 

Aug. S//i, 1845, — And pMU anniher yrar has 

been added to my life, r I 

I been a p-iisioiicr ui>on ti 1 

I God. The 1 • ' ■ ' 

for which I -^ 

it becomes ni 

With refirenco to the bitter ; i 

toward m" and mr childrr-n. ■ 



out in lovt' to :iiy husl>.ind, v^ 
that he may now cvino to thi ■ 
and accept p<'ac'e and pardon 
SixfT vr-nra of hi" lit'> li 'Ve 1. 

ir ■ ' ': " 



■alement and no all.ty. 
I><ird, prant it f>r thv ^^n'o wke. 
20(Ji.—Th. 
seventh vea: 



.\mon. 



.1. O I/3rd I strengthen tJiou us to pcrfonn, 
.'i:jd ffuide and blcjvs ua. 
Jan. 1st, 1846.— 

"The openInK jre»r llijr mercy pliowf. 
Let mercy crown It till It clo»c." 

My family, thifl winter, reduced tn >- 

ban<L ai<d children, Bfloraii e nie t. i 



and come under 
still sp'irc'l tn hi r. 
ted to ' 
sacrovl - 
scat ii'iA 
moroies of iii 

the peculiar ;...... 

we a:> u family are subjected 



-nces, I ; inyo»n iite aiid tne iile ot 

Am p<'ni vTdevout gratt":'1f^ to the .\ti- 

I read'ng the . Ihor a:.d TrivHcrvcr of life— 11 ■ 
' the nierev- I it in to trxalt or to abaiw. He '. 



I name! 



38 



A mother's peace offering. 



Jan. \si, 1847. — This day met a hundred and 
twenty or thirty at the house of our beloved 
pastor, on the occasion of our annual visit. 

The past has been a year of unusual mor- 
tality among us, yet am I spared to taste the 
sweets of social intercourse with friends and 
Christians dear ; still to enjoy the blessing of con- 
tinued life and health to my household — a peaoe- 
ful and quiet home — wilh opportunities for secur- 
ing and doing good. 

Oh I for a grateful heart, a penitent, believing, 
and obedient spirit ! 

Jan. 2d, 1848, Sahbalh. — United with my 
lellow-disciples in celebrating the Lord's Supper. 
Weather and traveling so bad that the accus- 
tomed New-Tear's discourse is deferred. 

Jan. dtJt. — New-Year's sermon, from the text: 
"Wherefore hast thou made all men in vain?" 
There have been nine hundred and twentj-two 
deaths in ShefSeld during the last thirty-four 
years, or since Mr. Bradford was set apart for 
the ministry here. Of these more than half 
were under thirty-tive years of age. 

Dec. Slst, 1848 —This last Sabbath and day of 
another year am attending the sick-bed of my 
daughter, who has been much afflicted during 
the year now closing with poor health and weak 
eyes, but has suffered more intensely the last 
two weeks than ever before with sickness. She 
was taken willi fever two weeks to-day. At the 
time of the attack her nerves were very weak, 
and her suffering has been extreme. But she is 
in the hands of Him who doeth all things well ; 
who saw fie to lay upon his well-beloved Siic great- 
er sufferings than mortals know for our sakes; and 
who is able to make all these trials of my child re- 
sult in her greatest good. In this truth my soul 
finds support. The year now closing has been one 
of much sickness wilh myself and children. It has 
likewise been one of a return of domestic evils. 
But these, for the present, have been greatly al- 
leviated or removed. J feel that I have cause 
to call upon my soul and all that is within me to 
bless the Lord for all his benefits; jea, and to 
trust him to work in and for me all things need- 
ful. The tolls of mortality have this day sound- 
ed thrice in our ears, calling upon us mortals to 
redeem the time as our years are swiftly passing. 
Soon our hatred and our love will be buried ; 
all our work.^, whether good or evil, shall cease. 

Lord! forgive, and sanctify, and blets, for thy 
mercy's sake. Amen. 

Jan. 20ih, 1849.— 

" Tliat voice, oft heard, that speaks, Be still, 
Submissive to his holy will, 
Has called by death your darling child, 
And bids you to be reconciled. 

" He's called her from your fond eml)race, 
Consigned her to her resting-place; 
Her spirit winged to God above, 
Dwells there in holy bliss and love. 

" He's called her from her earthly home, 
In a far-distant world to roam ; 
No more to sin, no more to sigh, 
No more to languish or to die. 

" The mother's heart that's rent in twain, 
To bear afresh her wounds again, 
May go to him, pour out her grief, 
And on his besom find relief. 

" In that great day when Christ shall come. 
He'll claim your ' Mary ' as his own ; 
Raise her immortal, pure and white, 
To dwell with him in realms of light." 



Tes, dear Mary, thou loved companion of my 
life's journey during "ten years," thou art gone! 
gone to return to me no more 1 gone to a better 
world, to a happier home, to know the bliss of 
love divine! The tenderest ties of thy beloved 
mother's heart are severed ! the deepest fountains 
of grief are there opened and gushing. But 'tis 
God, thy Maker and Giver, who hath called thee. 
I feel to bless Ids holy name, and to say : " He 
hath done all things well." He gave that faith 
unto thy mother which led her early to con- 
secrate thee unto himself, to seek to imbue thy 
young mind with his sacred truths, and to lead 
thy young heart to seek him in prayer. He 
wrought in thee a love of filial duty, gentleness, 
patience, purity of heart, meekness, humility, 
and faith, lie chasteneth thee as a vv'ise father ; 
and when thou wast purified as gold in the fur- 
nace, he terminated thy sorrows and thy suffer- 
ings in a peaceful death, and introduced thee to 
those joys which mortal eye hath not seen, or ear 
heard, or imagination conceived. Farewell, 
sweet child, until I have accomplished the work 
that remains for me on earth. Then will thy 
mother come I 

Thus closes the fourth and last volume of my 
private journal, commenced in 1831. From the 
day it thus closed I have not taken up my pen 
to speak out of the abundance of my heart, ex- 
cept in conununications to mortal friends. And 
now I must have recourse to some of these to 
show further the state of the inner or hidden life, 
as well as the manner in which God has an- 
swered what I have addressed to him. Before 
proceeding to this part of my work, it seems 
needful for me to do a thing to which I have 
hitherto been a stranger — namely, set the 
specific faults of another than my single self in 
a note-book. I have spoken in this letter of 
being cursed by one whom I sought most earnest- 
ly to bless. I did not lay this sm wholly to her 
charge. 

I do not believe that God lays this sin wholly 
to her fcharge ; neither do I believe that the 
act of indorsing this curse by one who had 
sworn to bless me, is a sin la'd wholly to the 
charge of the indorser. I believe that she who 
was i'lnpidsive because she ivas a tvoman, was 
more impulsive because she was the offspring of 
a man who cherished a causeless hatred against 
the woman he should have loved, namely, her 
own natural mother ; and that when God was 
visiting this iniquity of the father upon the child, 
the father's mind was so "harassed " that he 
knew not what to do, except to yield to any 
terms of peace she should dic'ate, and that her 
dictation was very much influenced by the selfish 
passions of her own heart and of a class of med- 
dlers without. 

The birth of her little brother was to Mary an 
unlooked-for blessing. She could scarcely give 
utterance to her joy, or describe the bright 
visions in the future which unfolded to her view. 
New sources of joy must develop new sources of 
sorrow in her case as in others. To see the lit- 
tle helpless stranger an object of hatred and con- 
tempt in his father's house caused her gentle and 
loving spirit an additional grief. But she, 
through sympathizing with her mother, and more 
or less participating in a similar hatred, had 
learned, too, to lock her sorrows in her own 
bofcom, except as she poured them out to God. 



A mother's peack offehino. 



39 



Her fntlior HCi^med not to uudoreUud that • 

'■Itil'l conl'l mjll'T niid uo'. coinplniii. H" • ■■^■■' 
luvtHil to l> ' i.;irr<ii will) u cliild. ]<iil ^' 
ri'iiti j iioil uM HJio was over prujiout v« : 
darkiKtvii toward her muliivr wtiS u|>uu lj«r 

ti' r'u Hickiic<ii)«8 



I: 

duruU ui hiB huuit«, b4M:aU'4« no i-ouid uul lawful- 
ly turn ihftTi nwny, except to mninluin lii« 
<i 'hodiHOOntouted meiubera 

I. -lit. 

' ' ' -•holittlrt 
>■■ far ro- 

li . .. tliit lie 

!■ Iiirt Wilt) in ll.L'ir retirement. 

'■;" i:ir t'lshamrg counifniiuco 
w<M liKud uctiu iiTi. wlifD it WH.H with- 

h»l"l, wo wnik«Hi , ;,iro liim. Hut we 

\\ ' r bol'ore 

1 1 we ob- 

t . / io the 

\ visited 

V -I, I wns 

ii ily laaiiiiK-i and pruvi-rs were net 

i. sr^-'^tt n<< 1 ?i!p!i'.!v ^/nr^liiiw'! in iLe 

(• 'II (if my 

li I know 

li i:.f World, 

n - a part of n- 

I My l:u*band 

1.' ml Bervauta. He 

J iTA, neither did he 

ever v% rit».' .r .uitr any lUiii^ to take baik. The 
ftnl li'ni k'nii.i tnrih. I j^vu^fvu^d fi toronf/ gpirit — 
\\ - ■ ' '..;.- 

ar ;se. I 

II % there- 
!• 'I tempt It. Tdey wero euibolilfiio.l 
i;. - <•> dictate to mp on the niit'-only 

<>: •.'.'.■■ ■, II I 

ju . I.) 

I; I 

I :- 

ri:-. - : - ., ;:i- 

ber oi : .ors. i told tlu-ir lather that 

I had < . y heart and my life in the light 

of tlud'rt Word uiid Spirit, earnestly Bought, and 
I c<")Vild lind nothini? in mvwlf nr r-nur^ whi^h 
ftpp«iired to ! • 

familv : Imt n 

1,1 r..'-....r':,l ■ 

ri 



I to mind th« proplict'n worda to God; ''Surtlj 

'»■■• ---'■ ■•• -' •■" ••••■ -•' •'■-' :)rjr 



•iiuxid pvritiil liiu Hun to k^o . ji- 

I position to ttiia ir'i'h wax v. i.>. 

! ward me and niy . J- 

ren who have a ■■• d 

....... .^ 

-.0 

- . : - :. , .U 

begin with copying • letter Irom ber owo band, 

• SnKrriELP, March 12lh, l'"4S. 

I DbaR At.'MT KUZABETH : Mnther and Kli/j« 
w. ^ > . I 

t 

I.... ... ,. .., ,., -d 

my ftrentfih. Mother and ' ti 

ftick with the anme. Mother i ■ I, 

but Charlie i« so aa to be ab >ui. Lie raid luauj 
times wlion he waa sick : "I wi«b Aunt Libbj 
would I like me." 

I hti ' lo Bch(x>l any thcae four weeks, 

and \<t ■--■ ' ' • - re 

until t< .1 

any ver, _ _ .. . _ , .1 

do not think we shall this sprwij;. \S o nave a 
very larjje drift in front of the gate. I'uther 
aaya lie hardly over saw it so tAf^Xi. Uucle 
George's school in out, and he spent one ni^rbt 
here last v>> ' A 

Charlie. !'• : ..'"J 

C )ok'a wife ia .. ... . ..■ r 

of doath.s in BarrinKlou of t- I 

can think of nothing more oi it 

be that my Chrialmas present whh a |itMiKiiire 
aboat an inch long. It coat twenty-i'vf <-'it'i. 
The marks on the loft baud of the 1 e 

of (^harlie's writintt. Ba ho took i :•» 

use the pen v ' • ■ ' r 

a moment. .r 

meaning. \i>. _ . ij 

\ir\ny; me another sugar monkey. Perhaps tnai is 
what they mean. 

Give my love to Arabella Knox, and ask ber 
to answer my letter. 

Please a'Xept this, with much love, fniniyour 
affectionate niece, Mauy Liitle. 

The sickness of myself aid children. H{x.kon 
of by Mary, left u»», as scarlet-fever (■o often does 
ill subjects, with a protracted crjnvalesKtuc?. 
My husband, or the eM^r rhildron, k!)"<v i ■>t))!iig 
of weakness, and • ■ ■ i 

everv one who wm » 



I'l' iJiil ho who uovi-r did any tlimif to 

bi (a under no obli(r»V'>ri tn for^rive ; 

tl • r found n ii him. 

V' s: " He 1 •« and 

^Oi.-.,:^■-.,^. -.: - -,.»ll tin i - ' 

the mercy promised, 'i 

received, to live and wn , 

ab.ited and concealed wrath, for yi .. 

ever}' provocation which the lonft-^ 

everai cumulating enmity ae.iins; mo uuuM givu, 

withdiit uttering a repnwhl il word, was a gift 

which came by faslintr and prayer. When I 

could reconcile myself in no other way, I called 



n HUiforer, and i'h.to was none 
as the w«-ak 8<;)in;ht to bmr t' 
weak, while we were 
upon and spoken of by ' 



Uillii'it^d, Hiid UiV hli.>>l>Hl , . ulUiie>l li,e 

monosyllable '' No" to ; aid <^f the 

kind. Ho was very indu:^. :.i >•> ., 
and I, relying upon that, had a^ut L! 



40 



A MOTHER'S PEACE OFFERING. 



requests to be taken abroad, till she said : " Mo- 
ther, I don't like to asls fatlier for any thing 
which he does not choose to grant, he looks so." 

Finding that my husband had tlioui^hts of visit- 
ing his relatives, in HarpersOeld, I Haltered my- 
self that providence was opening to us the way 
lor a cure. My husband had never taken his two 
younger children to see his own kindred, and at 
this state of our health, a ride by our own convey- 
ance to the farther side of the Catskiil Mountains 
would be health and pleasure to us, and money 
to him who was so oppressed by the thoughts 
of supporting ud in sicknes-". 1 ventured to ex- 
press my thoughts to my husband upon the 
subject. But his brow contracted and darkened, 
and as he refased, he said he supposed I would 
do all in my power to interrupt his going. 

This I knew to be an unmerited charge, for I 
knew that if I were to plan a journey to my 
friend'^, I should detire no interruption ; and to 
do as I would be done unto had long been my 
study. This accusation, like many of the kind, 
had its unfavorable effect upon my health. Not 
that I willed it so, for I sought by every means 
in my power to restore and preserve health. 
But it was a law in nature, and therefore a law 
of God, every jot and tittle of which must be 
fulfilled, either ia obedience or penalty. About 
the 1 st of May my husband and a daughter were 
in re:idinfss to depart on the journey west, when 
my rapidly failing health led my liusband to hesi- 
tate. The daughter then repeated the charge of 
interruption through feigned sickness. I urged 
that the visit should bi^ prosecuted, believing it 
best under the circumstances. Asked the phy- 
sician who was called to assist my husband's 
judgment in the case, to encourage it. They 
left to be absent about two weeks. My health 
failed till friends became alarmed. Mary heard 
the fears expressed. She had seen the enmity 
toward me acted out. Her eyes had been weak 
since her own sickness. Now, she had not the 
attention she needed, but had an anxiety unfitted 
to her strength and years. Charlie, too, was 
taken down with an eruptive erysipelas, spread- 
ing over his back. Mary screened her eyes par- 
tially t>om the light, and kept around till the 
second day of June, when she called to me from 
her bedroom, and said she could not bear the 
light at all, so as to arise and dress herself. I 
was unable to leave my own bed. My servants 
consisted of a strong woman wl)0 came through 
the day, doing all the housework and nursing, 
and returned to her own home at night, and a 
delicate niece of fourteen, who came to be our 
company nights, and assist to divert my children. 
But there was one element in my house which 
had ever before been wanting. All was peace. 
Myself and son began to amend. Mary could be 
led about witli her eyes so covered, as not to let 
the light fall upon the closed lids. When my 
husband and daughter returned, we were all 
comfortable, pleasantly walking and talking 
Marv being led by the hand. We thought our- 
selves blessed, in being able to give them so 
cheerful a reception. But they seemed to see 
differently. 

The charge of interruption had not been erased, 
nor of feigned sickness forgiven, but both seemed 
to have resolved themselves into a charge of ven- 
geance. And during the five moutlis that Mary 
lived, shut out from natm'e's light, did their 



treatment of me seem to say: "You have tied 
up that girl's eyes to excuse yourself from labor, 
and to take vengeance on us because you were 
not pernii'ted to go abroad as you desired." But 
I was conscious that not a word, nor a look, nor 
a tone, nor a thought of mine, indicated such a 
heart in me. Mary's power to endure light about 
her person gradually failed, until she was com- 
pelled to seek that every ray should be excluded 
from the room she occupied. And just in pro- 
portion as she retreated from solar light, did she 
rise into intellectual and spiritual. She had no 
pain except that caused to her eyes by admitting 
light to her room. She asked but one thing be- 
yond her food and raiment, and that was not to 
be left alone. But if any one referred, in her 
hearing, to the strange conduct of her father or 
sister, a low groan from her, told me that it must 
not be allowed. 

As I could not endure to be constantly con- 
fined to a room so unventilated as hers must 
necessariljr be, and as no other one should at- 
tempt it long, for health's sake, we oflered to the 
girls of her acquaintance to take turns and spend 
each three days in succession in her company, 
at the rate of fifty cents per week, or the six 
days allotted to labor, while her father and my- 
self divided the Sabbath between us. We had 
medical advice from Dr. Chapman of Egremont, 
a person of great skill in chronic disease, but of 
so exten'ive a practice as not to allow cf his 
visiting his patients very often. This circum- 
stance lessened the doctor's bill, and increased 
my own study of disease and medicine. The 
doc;or told me that my children were scrofulous 
in their constiiution, and in his opinion, I would 
do well to go with Marj^ to the vicinity of the 
sea as soon as she was able, and spend as much 
time there as I found practicable. To impress 
my mind the more strongh', he related the his- 
tory of Mr. Phineas Chapins family, where a 
scrofulous taint ran through the family, and one 
after another died of consnmption. Ho had ad- 
vised this course in relation to a daughter of that 
family who was beginning to go in the way of 
several sisters, then deceased. Her mother went 
with her to the sea, and remained with her till 
her health improved so as to allow of her being 
put to the study of music and some other lessons, 
and then left her near the sea ; and at the time 
he related this to me she was to all appearance 
as healthy as any one. 

In my .sf)licitude to do what I could for the 
dear child, I obtained her father's consent to ad- 
dress a letter to the principal of the Eye In- 
firmary, New- York, describing her case as well 
as I could, and asking advice, to which I received 
the following answer : 

New-York-, Aug. 2Gth, 1848. 
To Mrs. Ralph Little : 

Madam : In reply to your letter in reference 
to the case of your daughter, I would state, that 
it is impossible for me to give a decided opinion 
without seeing your daughter. From your de- 
scription, I should say she could be cured with- 
out much doubt. The New-York Eye Infirmary 
is a charitable institution, founded and supported 
at the public expense, for the purpose of allbrd- 
ing relief to paupers. If you wish your daugh- 
ter admitted a.s a patient at this Institute, the 
only expense is for board. The advice of the 



A Mi)THKU'a PEACK OFKKRIXG. 



4! 



rir^'con and Uio mediciues are given gratuit* i emplf-ycil n •i*nrr«trt "^ fo flt 1*^ \^nr.- <••<• 
ou«ly. ' wliich h 

My ndvim in, thnt you brinor your daughter to liulit >> 

til. 'I ■ <. and judr 

Ol ! 



air 




It III pi<-S-.»lolp liiu! - 

y«)U, llmt you niny : 

your IreuliiKut ihiTi'. A, in i.ms, M i>, 

M'J tlouaton ijt., near (Jrvvno St 


ir-lill, itii«l 
1 U» Biuist 
1 • 


1 r, 1 inquired to know, na doflnitoly 


t nii.i .. .... . 

wuy of pnyii • 


h^ . rii::ii't In tin' . xi" ■.]'<■' of .•o'i:..'i ! 


l-l L-. !- At 


in 

tli: 




tl' 
111 

fu' 


ll..riy . 
"11. 



1 if ho would 

' t tako Mary a' ,.| 
about it, ' lio »:ii'l, aii'i 



w 




her lather s exjK-Dse. Tho 


w 




.' ua; to hi c!.-:;p by tho 


li; , 




•h tho 


fnl. 




bin In 


do. 1 






great 


il 




ail' " 






f.r 






nn 






This wurn 


could bu utilireiy ui.>«tiuct Iruiu all tliu 


Othrr, 


nnd 


bo attend«d to us my leisure and 


8tr. 




.ved. And all tho butttr not uso<l 


iti 




, I wiis allowed to sell wlicro I 


d. 






h.. 
Ki 




. uhicli a 1 
.:i old obi 


Ti 




■le, for the 


V. 




1 bv others 


nil • 






ri'i 






til 







vai.l I. 

r MiivM tno to." 

j 1 luriiior urged liie r.cc<.>^iiifS in " 
j and again asked in her iM-h.ilf, b-:! 
thing to HJiy about it," v-'ua the 
I ibcn snid : " Mr. Liltlo, w 



ojuld, unii liitil, lu liiiihii wiial \c-v r^iuitiiicU for 
nie to do, should be my f^*«'«'t employ. 

Mary went to v> rt 

of NoveniUr, on I 



a lear tiiat liic oiUnioor air 
w;i3 injurious: b!!t eh" '.vroi d 

■Ay: 'ir you only knew h- 1 

i for beinir out, mother, you 



to 

si. 



tnilr lifo-invifroratinp, 



luighl go. &bd 1 j'id(^<.d lite ride '. 

h<»r. Hot b^fof" th» r\nao of f>fr\ 



. than bIic said tl made lur tiiad 
r a littl", sho lonnM np-in my 

uldi.r. iuuktd i- ■ 'l 

1 : " Mother, w i '• 



into Uio u)H.-a u.r .. 
She nevir mom b. 

0.1 , . :■ 

lo 



: that I kuew not what 
d ever Ijcen njbjcct to aevcro hoad-ache. 

,-, ,1 ■: ■■ ■■ f I .. I'r^t a, ,i:...i - . . i. I .III 



dr. 

Setik, d J>vi5i-<ioiiJi, ;i 

our cxpcujicd wbol 



■ Itrfiiy sli-j ojuI'I iiul iioid 
...ng. I I my orma; but no, '■ 



r i..to 
..o the 



A mother's peace offering. 



pillow ; and as I laid her back, she plaintively- 
uttered : " Oh ! that I could get health and 
strength." I desired medical advice ; but I de- 
sired not to meet the bitterness which seemed 
excited if I asked love or money from my hus- 
band. However, a sense of duty impelled me, 
and on Wednesday evening, December 20th, at 
eight b'clock, I approached my husband for the 
last time, to make intercession in Mary's behalf 
She was lying upon a bed in the south-west cor- 
ner of the south front-room of our house, with 
her head to the west. 

On the same side of the room with her head, a 
door opened into the keeping-room of Mr. Little. 
I timidly went out, half assured he would hear 
me for a suflering child's sake. I told him I 
would be glad to have the doctor called in the 
morning to see Mary. But, alas 1 I had ap- 
proached my monarch when the golden scepter 
was not held out, and death must follow! With 
a manner which can not be conceived by those 
who have not seen, but which was too well un- 
derstood by the wounded, fluttering heart of the 
sick child, ho said : " I should think you had 
found out by this time that doctors do no good." 
I replied; "Scripture says, they that are sick 
need a physician." He said : " I know Scripture 
says so, but I should think you had found out 
better by this time. Well," continued he, 
" what are yru going to do about it ? Are you 
going to take a club and drive me ? If you are, 
why don't you go at it?" I had often felt an op- 
pression in the region of the heart when I had 
met his wrath, silently or otherwise expressed. 
But now, such whs my agony, it seemed that 
death must literally follow soon, if I found no 
relief. I returned to Mary's room, noticing, as I 
retreated, that I had left the door open during 
this memorable conversation. I looked at the 
dear child. There she lay. neither moving nor 
opening her lips. I fell upon my knees before 
her bed, laid my head upon the same pillow with 
her own, and cried unto the Great Physician of 
body and of soul to take our case into his own 
hand ; and I had an answer of peace. Instantly 
was the distress about the heart, and the greater 
anguish of spirit, removed. And the unseen 
Angel of the Covenant did not leave me till sick- 
ness fled from my child, to return no more. But 
who shall picture the scene which was to follow 
in that furnace and that Beihesda ? Why did 
God give me to behold alone a scene without a 
parallel, and yet deny me a scholar's pen or an 
artist's pencil? He is wise in all his appoint- 
ments, therefore I patiently wait till he shall 
show me why. Nothing ever passed between my 
husband and self relative to the conversation 
about the doctor. The next day, he went of his 
own accord for Dr. Kellogg, who, at that time, 
resided in Egremont. The doctor was in poor 
health, the weather severe, and traveling bad. 
I do not know how many times he saw Mary, 
nor do I believe that human skill could have 
saved her after the blow given, through a phy- 
sician being asked for her. The doctor came 
once in two or three days, until sickness in his 
own person prevented. Then we were too far 
from him to know the cause of his delay, and 
waited from day to day in suspense. We were 
remote from neighbors, except a family in a 
tenant-house. I had learned to think I must 
never ask for help to take care of myself or 



children, while able to arise and walk. An aged 
colored woman had taken the place of the daugh- 
ter who had charge of work through the summer. 
My husband was alone in his department of 
labor. The cold was so intense, that water 
would freeze near the windows in our room, and 
for seventeen days and nights, after I first asked 
a physician, was I alone with the suflering child, 
except as her father came into the room to bring 
the fuel, and the physician to pay his few short 
visits. She once asked me if I could not bring 
the wood into the room, and prevent a necessity 
for her father's coming in ; but I told her I had 
not strength, and she said no more about it. He 
once told me he thought Mary did not like to 
have him come into her room, but I do not know 
what led him to think so. Soon after the scene 
of her father's anger, she said to me most ten- 
derly: "Mother, do you love me?" "Yes, 
Mary." Soon the question was repeated: "Mo- 
ther, do you love me ?" " Yes, my child." No 
groans escaped her lips, but still the question 
came: "Mother, do you love me? does any body 
love me?'' "Mary, my dear child, it has been 
my love for you that has led me to pray and 
strive for tlie preservation of my own life these 
many years." " Mother, I know it can't be but 
that you love me ; but it don't seem as if any 
body loved me ; it don't seem as if I was worthy 
to be loved. "0 mother! does any body love 
me ? does any body care for me ?" " Poor 
Mary!" said I. "Don't call me poor; I know 
I am poor, but it makes me feel worse to be 
called so. mother! mother! does any 
body love me ?" Thus she lay, and thus spake, 
desiring that I would not move or speak when 
it could be avoided, until she would sink from 
exhaustion into a short slumber. 

" Mother, mother, mother," in a tone subdued, 
languid, feeble, and tender, was much of the 
time all that escaped her lips; and when I felt 
constrained to try to say a soothing word, she 
said: ''You need not reply, mother; it makes 
me feel worse to hear you, but I must say some- 
thing, I feel so bad." 

Oh ! how many hundreds of times the word 
"mother" fell upon my ear from those parting 
lips, in that last sickness, is only known to Ilim 
by whom the very hairs of our head are num- 
bered. She sometimes sank into a slumber, 
which gave a refreshing rest to my own tried 
nerves, but each succeeding return from these 
her transient slumbers brought an increase of 
inteuBity to her sufferings. " mother I do 
you love me ? Does any body love me ? Does 
any body care for me ? nn^ther 1 what does 
make me feel so ? It seems as if I must run, 
and jump, and scream." All this time she lay 
motionless. Not a muscle seemed to move ex- 
cept her lips. Her voice only subdued and 
plaintive, till at last a sudden shriek burst forth, 
rending the air around ; but she immediately 
spake with her accustomed voice: "Mother, 
what does make me scream so? I can't help it. 
mother ! you don't know what I suffer. 
Nobody knows what I suffer. No one can con- 
ceive the agony I feel." Thus passed the days 
and nights. She would remember the accus- 
tomed hour for retiring ; ask me to go to bed, 
and as I leaned upon my couch, would utter 
"Goodnight, mother," in the same sweet tones 
as when in health. Her mind sometimes slighlly 



A MOTIIKRS PEACE OFFKIUNG. 



.10 
•lu 



wanderpJ, but «u at no time lout to a ftill arn^ 
of all lii<r diHtrcMM. 8ho at ono timv uid : ' Mo 
tlior, hi)\v Utntr liavo wa b««n in prinuti ?" At 



rata* h«r hoart to God in prnr-r nnd shr c-ilmly 
annnrorod : " Y" h." l« • o 

all appearanoe. bo<Yinia I 



1 M9, I 
fuU iny ttUrii^Ui BO lur ((unu tliitl 1 oiu'd not 
Httomi't tf> Bri"« and impiilr t'l" flr»> wtih fnH 
,: 



occaxion lor r 

of \\' '•'•• Hll 



II liiu Unl ' . uC llie 

:rom it« jir:- Jler 

. "d Lin acxu>i' tiit'l tai:ii!iLi« amid 



eU, ami t<.uk 1)10 bi-U at iiiH (iximl liuur lur retir- 
log. Mary then had sunlc into her last slrrp. till 
palsj ahould come to tlio ri'liof of her »'. 
norve*. Her fnlher tinj hli-pt, till htr 
sh ' ' "■ ' . ' ' . 'o In his mrs h 

' , which, I am per- 

HLi ii vfHs drowned in 

the ciraiiis which llow Irom the " Sonp of Mufca 
and tin* Lainlx" "O mother! do you love mo? 
Dooa any body lore me ? Does any body care 
for mo?" and then tho xuddnn slirmk, which 



V _' : "O ir.< don't kuow 

w r. Oht i: -. Oh I this 

agony, it 1:1 inconcoivabiu by liiustc who don't 

fb«l it. Ti i"* <inutt*'m»>le. It is indescribable. 

motli' (.r, does any body love 
met 'ire for me?" These 
c" •• : ht rn, wiih short inter- 
V;; ', lille<l tho hours from 
ni _ Jay, in that xick room, 
(sbali I call it?) Ah I 1 knew not then where 
to Cfo'" it, 

' lary had taupht me not to reply to 

h' I felt coii.siriiinfMl to nttflr iwime- 
tl. 
tl 
A 

1 ' " . . - ■ • 
•very UiUy loves* you. ' Tnen willi a tone mild 
but Mrm and n««iirf>d, <»he paid: "No, mother; 
y" ' I .0." I aaid: " I don't 

k;. ^ vou." " Don't 

hai. .... ; •' -• ' •' — '• "Yes, 
mother, you k m pro- 
bably the OTi! J that 



ever fell upon hor faiher'a onr. And thouK'h she 
8e<»m>P/1r pMired her who!f> «ar>tt! into hrr rn- 
111' had ever '• 

h' - her her 

T:. . . r , . 



wit 11 1 r 

brow, u: ^ r 

which hhd diKciiar^ed irom her eyea, arid uned 
tip<>:i tln-m durinif the night, .^f I Mt tlni'* 'm- 
1 pave utternnoe to f s 

ve for tho cherished < I 

in a r\v 1 

took a .'■ .. ..... .::il 

mvKdf and nt the Faa c time look upon Mary. 
Hor father came into tho room, stood a loiig 
time by her bedside, gazing in sileuoo upon tho 
form Iwforp him, ard at ih»» ««m»» time holding 

.'.v tliat 
.. He 

.1^.. ..J.. ■,..,. n,-- . ,.,1 .1 .•.,. -v ,.. ..n the 

btd, turned lii« hack to Mary, and as !>•• sl'V>d 
with hi.s ln'Hd over the stove by whioh I was sit- 
ting, the tears gushtd forth from his tye«. (which 
I hud never before known to weep.) and Ml, not 
in drop,'*, but in streams, upon tho stove. Ii was 
then to me u marvel. He lelt the roam, where 
silence had not been broken si ' - . ■ . 
I a^ain sat alone where sti .1 

reigned. I thoujtht I hca.'d i . .,.1 

breathing of the word ''Molhor." 1 aro-<e and 
went to the bed and looked inquiri'^gly at the 
child. Not a muscle moved ; but there waa a 
distinct breathing ntferanc« which »aid: "I/Ot 
yoa" I ji' ' ■ ' ' i. 

ved not, I :i 

I snid. ..,..,,, .. .r 

.■^nd ttie fetill small 
1 : " Yea, ma'am." ''I'', 
iher .' ' " Yos, ma'am." "I Sitid : ' Mary, nro 
you better?" She fixed her eyes np- a mo in 
silence, and T, who had so long reed their ex- 
pressioD. understood thtm to say: "I know not 
what you mean." I thr ■ ■ •• « - ■ -- 

aick ?" '• Not very." '. 

you liiwo ii.:ii)y times of ,..:. 
if - 11 ?" " No, ma am,' v 

t' - ■ palsied lips. T sii i 

ry »;ok, for a few 
•r it now." S! ■ .1 



Sf!: ..... .... 

much as to the reader. Mr. 1 
of day and left the r\)om. NU. 
Utterings a few tTiOinentM, when h* r arli> 
became indislini't, h«>r tnnerni« <u>«mfd to 
mouth, ; ' 
at ail. 

me, all I.-.! . . .... ... , 

about Cfilimir her to leave nv 
she was willing to go? Shi 
don't know." I a.sked her if her »■ . 
and aho said "Yes." I asked her .: 



> ri*Mi<>ru 10 me tL«» ctiiid vHiiuui i 
)■ fl.««d Mt hnnhnnd «i—rppd 



d to tw rv*ttoreO. i: 
turn her body, the h 



44 



A mother's peace offering. 



turned with the chest than if her neck were 
broken. Yet the breath of" hfn chained her s-oul 
to eaith till noon of Friday, January twellth, 
1849. In the mean time, she occasionally 
gatliered strength to answer a tew injjuiiies ia 
the same still, small voice, which could only be 
bearJ where a deathly silence reigned. Bat her 
meek, and quiet, and loving t^oul spake turouKh 
the mild lustre of her eyes, and as friends came 
around her bed she gave them a parting hand, 
to speak the farewell her lips migbt not utter 
One of her arms was strengthened so that she 
could more it, but the other remained completely 
paralyzed. And when she could not speak, she 
could raise the riglit arm to express a negative or 
an affirmative. At three o'clock of her last 
morning on earth, I arose from my slumbers and 
asked the watcher in attendance (Miss Mary 
Wilcox) to wit,hdraw and give me her place by 
my da'igiiter's side. I found she could no longer 
spea'c, but retained all her consciousness. I 
asked her some questions relative to her present 
wants, naming something, and saying, if you 
wish it, raise your hand. She expressed lier 
wishes in reference to any thing I thus named. 
I then said to her : " Mary, are you willing to 
die? If you are, I wish you to raise your hand." 
She looked at nie with an earnest, loving, un- 
complaining look; but her hand was motionless. 
Witii an anxious heart, I said : " Mary, do you 
wish to get well ? If you do, raise your hand." 
She fixed upon me the same look, and her hand 
remained mcionless. I then said: "Mary, do 
you desire that God's will be done in respect to 
your living or dying '?" Instantly her hand was 
raised. With a full heart I said : " my child ! 
that is just a3 I wish you to feel; and jast as I 
wish to feel myself" No sooner did 1 say "just 
as I wish to feel myself," than her hand was 
more quickly raised, to be longer held up than 
at any other time. Thus was I told, with an 
eloquence which mortal tongue can never utter, 
the depf-i of love tbv the mother in the heart of 
that dying child ; and the still deeper love for 
the Lord her God. What could I ask more? 
I addressed her in the poet's words : 



" See, Israel's .gentle Shepherd'stands, 
With all-engaging -cliarms ; 
Hark ! how he calls the tender lambs, 
And fwlds them in his arms." 



I said to Mary : " Your mother submits and yields 
you back to God, to dwell with him as one of 
Jesus' lambs." This was our last conversation 
on earth. 

At nine in the morning of that day I stood by 
her bed wiih a garment in my hand, designing to 
change h^r dress, as I thought her gradual sinking 
might continue a day or two longer. She then 
did by me, as she had for two or three days been 
doing l:)y others, gave me her hand as a token of 
farewell. I u .derstood the token, and said to 
her: "Mary, you can no longer pronounce the 
'good-by,' but I'll remember how often and how 
sweetly you said it during the past summer." 
It liad been my custom while she was in the 
dark room, lo go in and inform her whenever I 
was to leave the house. She would wait a little, 
to bring her mind to acquiesce, and then most 
pleasantly say: "Well, mother, come and tell 
me when you are rsady lo go." When my bon- 



net and shawl were put on, I would go into her 
room and say, "Now, Mary, I am ready:" 
and the child whom I fed, and dres.sed, and 
combed, and washed, for many months in a 
darkness as dense as that of the grave, till I 
daily longed to behold her features one(3 more, 
would come to me, imprint the kiss of affection, 
and say, " Good-by, mother," in tones more rich 
and sweet than I can express. I folded and 
laid aside the garment I had desiLrned to put 
upon the djing child. Soon her difficult respira- 
tion confirmed the suggestion siiven by tfie part- 
ing hand. Friends and neighbors were sum- 
moned to her bedside. The difficult breathing 
increased, and I felt constrained to go to my 
closet and ask my heavenly Father (if it could 
be consistent with his holy will) to grant the 
waiting spirit a speedy and an easy release. I 
went back to speak to Mary for the last time, 
till I, witli her, shall awake at the sound of the 
archangel's trump. I said to her: "Mary's 
sufierhigs are almost over. Angels are waiting 
to convey her spirit to Jesus' bosom, there to 
remain as a lamb of his forever. Mother will 
be coming soon ; perhaps very soon." Then 
Mary departed ; yea, she flew away to be at 
rest. And as the Angel of Death touched the 
fair fortn Mary was now deserting, there was a 
dissolving view upon the countenance, such as 
no human artist can imitate. The King's daugh- 
ter, all glorious within, could not so drop her 
mantle that it should not bespeak the character 
of her who had worn it. As I closed the shut- 
ters of those windows which would no more 
need the light of the sun, or of the moon, one of 
the weeping friends. Miss Julia Roys, who sat by, 
said: " Why, Jane, how can you be so calm, 
and close the eyes of your departed child ?" Ah ! 
she has since forded the stream of death, and 
now she understands " why." 

And what was to be the effect of this unlooked- 
for affliction to Mary's flither? He had fldlen 
to weeping. Yes, he who had long put on the 
stoic, and set all trials at defiance, must now 
weep. The promise is ; " Though weeping en- 
dure for a night, joy shall arise in the morning." 
But a long night of weeping was before him ; 
yea, a night of seven years. And ere that long 
night closed, he told me he believed he hud shed 
barrels of tears sinca Mary's death. 

He had been laboring, during a long life, to 
justify himself by the deeds of the law. After 
the former deaths in his family, he began to feel 
some need of Gospel. He took to himself a 
partner in life, in whom he had conhdeuce as 
one taught of God, and who, had this confidence 
contiiiued, might have assisted him to find the 
light of life. But some body readily uudei stood 
that I had married one so much older than my- 
self from no otlier motive than love to money. 
That being the case, my professions of love to 
God must bo hypocritical. Ho had failed to use 
his reason in regard to duty to the Avife, until its 
light was put out. So / see the case. I did not 
so clearly see the truth then as I do now. 

His first wife loved another man more than 
himself. His second wife loved his money more 
than himself And no possil.ile or positive proof 
could convince him to the contrary. But the 
spirit that troubled him was a dumb spirit, suf- 
fering none but himselfj single and wedded, to 
know its workings, until, alas! the blows that 



A MOTIfKR's PEACE OFKEKINr,. 



45 



wife dosiirrefl to c-orroct «r tiike vrTffnnr<» on ' thr^n m^v* mnr*' r^'-riff] h'n );p« upr.n r» 
Iho erriiitr vomnu liml 8lnin on 
viftim. Tlio ••oiiwM'nitwl Ininb lind 

I,. :■ ■ ■ : 



in;h"rrt on 
■ If 



la 

\' lit l)o buried 

— thfj " )*«ii ot d«'»lli ' Lie toiiid. The fair lomi 

which a little before b^f? f mfr.-Kl Cr rn the dark 

room, lie tK'iiro tn ' v wiish- 

c<l nml chid, atiil (Mo- 



Ihit I, 

work i>i w 

Btnnd nluiip, nncl hv fintv iiui li-au u|>i'd nii'. I 

and my l!vif<~ ciilit ?r»i"»t yt be eupportt'd, and 

I)OHce V' ddn-ii !«■ soii^'ht. 

The "i !id wiis ch.f-tin'd 



ing; no. nolhin;^ but n wpuUher, where alio ' to hnvo ft Cdnservaior.' Thai, hko mnny m 
niif^ht sleep till inorniiip. A tjorious morning, ' short sayingn, was as ft headinff to n r' a 
wliOBe day nhall know no cloud. j ■which niu!>t be read in the dark. A 

Hut whi'ii sliul) «hn l>« bnried ? \Vhi>r» nnd ■ impltiHl insanity. He bad R;iid noi! 



his 

Pter 



thil Btiticipations. pi 

II birth. But now, ti 

but Mary had within a f<.-\v moritiitt 

■I • " >'<>'b<"'. T »'V-m to di'^liko to 

- to me 

older." 

ii'iii 1.. •! ■ .1 '■ [1 ■ ■• V/OTVl 

; And 
content- 



go round liml n rtiild t«f Ion \ 

h^t it 1. ■ t .1 1 nU,}^ that nodli; 

r- [ able at that age, even where vmmg 

i- ■ if. 

I ii.i<;»ir«.U to the house of my pastor, to learn 
if ho could preach n fuiH-ral Bi-rmon l<'>r her on 
tl. " ■' ■ ■ , at the 

< rin>: a 

t'. .. ..ill o(' ■> 

\ ; r. Tulier.) • 

I adapt it ii 
iitiices of my chiltl. 
lUh, 1R49, at nnf> 
•in her CfP 
Ikwl out s 
■ ■■.i.>c oTi r '-^ - ■ 
:h : " We \'. 
how did 1 
^1 Ader tlie services n 
'■ nin:nr bns sinfo told me 
oih<T!< of the 
• ve to Marv 
t' ■I" l.vo, why 

."■^ on whom 1 

lo....'. . ^ : the joys I 

experiencfd, niii« ii t>y tienris around me. TIk' 
."vir on thai rt.iy wm ba.my, and every breath tint 
I inliiiled Its I f<'ll.>wed ray child t<> her pniT«, 
s<>omed as dcsi'^ncd cuix^-tu ly for my i(ivig'«m- 
lion by Him who came t<.» bind up the brukco 
heart. 

Wo reiarned from .Mary'.x praT<- •" '■•- ' '- 

dwelling. A light had jrone out. 
thiU night, complfttned <>( Mr Hra 
judgment of him.sclf in the fiinrmlstruiun. fru«-)i 
a thought bad not occunxd to my miud. Ue 



1. ■ . 

far fk.-« hv oiUiil lu I In; itinut 

And on th" Salibatb. .T'tnu . 
o'clock p. »!., M.iry 
the otiuf h frfim w 



r.-cl ti 
last I" 

ti. ■• 



..r 

-Iroy 

•ii 



I aiid wlii-n lie lic«iiiif ii-ntdurk in iii." ■ 

ho told ine he Ix-lievcd he had been .; 

I late. What this conservator ineanl 1 k 

and dare not n-*k, li-st a spirit that would 

' mo wnn setkinp for a or- - • • ' - 

I niifrht find an cxcu.^o iVi ii 

j could now bo-tr no moi r 

Mary's death, his lialf-brotiier, >> ., 

deceased in {'hicnfro, heq'ifnthirc >■ tv 

to himself and his yo>i r 

I wife, and anpoititine tli< ;i 

■ T' ' • l,u- 

\ <• • n ten 

V' , ... . . , ::,v .... t 

■ r had btiilt up, ami x 

•••r. Two other sons v i| 

I :ind linti Innns of their own. The only leimin- 

I ine sf^n wft" with his uncle in ('hif^eo nt the 

— was executor . i il 

•i\ 'Ihe two d: 

■■ ; .-• . : ■•'■ ' .1 

r with lit • 

• \ hi had Hv _ <[ 

j now to hnvo arrived — the time when no ii tiu' i.co 

I in our hou.'«c,«luiuld divert rrvh''.<»bnn'i'-' tn---) :rr>m 

I the truth, ntid he should e 

' .IS I was; fshould in hisr! : ti 

i l:i' ■ 1 lioni''. 1 •- 

V. iiad no r- • i- 

I jr..... ' l.'-w t: :.i 

, urged ' !. 

But I M to 

aasert the r.^hi 1 U.td b<<ii lo'.d ll.ai n.w.o of 

his children Imd for yoam talked of their fith.-i's 

living with t! ' ' : itlitr'a 

house. Hut r plans 

beliered it 

:n. Me <>on- 

ciliijtii lo gu l<j CliicOgti tu i-|pvliii the SUl:i;:irr. 

He aaked my oldest brother, who had poh^x jv-iuq 



46 



A mother's peace offering-. 



of the old homestead of the Roys fiimily, to 
board myself and son. My brother cousented; 
and a^ my father was then living with him, re- 
tired from busy life, and having at his command 
a horse and buggy, I was placed in circumstances 
most I'avorable for restoring health. After ar- 
ranging for my board, my husband one evening 
caused an extra lire, and asked me to withdraw 
while he should have a conference with his child- 
ren. Next morning he said he was ready to take 
me to my brother's as soon as I could be ready ; 
that he had concluded to sell the farm on which 
we lived to his second son ; that he should also 
divide among his children most of his personal 
property, as we should not have occasion to use 
much of it. I had never interfered in any way 
with his business affairs which he chose to keep 
from me, or inquired, Why do you so? and felt 
no disposition to do so now. I told him I w^ould 
be ready to go next morning. Before retiring 
that night he toW me it would be necessary that 
I should sign the deed, which would be ready on 
the next Saturday, and they would either take 
the deed to me or take me to the village. I be- 
lieved that I could not " do justly,'' (a thing 
which God requires of man,) and sign the deed, 
without a condition. He had valued his farm at 
five thousand dollars, and I said: "I will sign 
the deed if you will secure to me five hundred 
dollars." He said he should not do it ; he did not 
think of any such trouble ; and added : " I de- 
spise hypocrisy." I wished very much that he 
might pursue the business of distributing, for I 
felt assured it would remove a strong temptation 
to deception and waste in his house. I believed 
that the expectation of something from Chicago 
increased the solicitude concerning the sharers of 
the house; and that I might do all that in me 
lay to promote peace. I told my husband at that 
time, that if he would secure to me a thousand 
dollars I would sign a quit-claim to all he pos- 
sessed, or ever might possess, and ask nothing 
more from him than my board (if I should live) 
during the remainder of his life. 

Had he been himself, as when I married him, 
or known me as he would have done if no 
wrong influence had come upon his mind, he 
would doubtless have done it. But he had com- 
mitted himself to other counsel than mine. He 
confided in that counsel and in the power of his 
own strong and steady hand to execute its will. 
Whether its name be "legion," or "trio," or 
"unit," is not for me to say. But its disastrous 
workings I have read, and will now attempt to 
write. Nothing further was said to me about 
the deed. I went to my brother's to board. 
My husband gave a deed of the farm to his 
second son, and of his real estate in the village 
(the birthplace of Mary) to his eldest son. This 
he had held at three thousand dollars. He went 
to Chicago ; was thrown from a stage and broke 
his leg. Charlie was very sick with the scarlet- 
fever in April after his father left. This again 
left him with very weak nerves, and myself 
worn and feeble. I was not able to do my own 
washing or sewing through the summer. Yet 
my body required exercise and my mind occupa- 
tion ; and my friends very generously contributed 
to these objects. I did what I could to compensate 
them, and left the rest with God. My husband 
returned in autumn. He gave me a cold hand. 
I endeaTored to interest him in conversation, but 



he only gave the monosyllabic reply. When we 
retired, he took a separate bed and spoke not. 
He soon made arrangements to return to the 
house where Mary died, to spend the winter. 
My strength did not allow me to do without a 
hand-maid, and for the first time in my lifa I was 
served by Irish help. My husband was " dark," 
as Irish Mary expressed it. Charlie wa,s subject 
to sudden and severe inflammatory attacks af- 
fecting the brain. On one occasion he was play- 
ing as wfeU as usual at twilight, when he half- 
play fully said, " My ear aches," but continued 
to complain till he raved, except as he sank into 
a short sleep, from which he would awake with 
screeches, and springing from his bed. His 
father went next day to Town Meeting without 
having laid ofl' his coat or rested his head through 
the night. He that day told a daughter-in-law 
he had no reason to think Charlie had long to 
live. Knowing my husband was intending to 
go West in the spring, I wrote and obtained a 
situation at Eaton's Neck, L. I., where I, by 
teaching a few pupils, could have board for my- 
self and son, and one dollar a week. I was not 
able to sit up through the day when I entered 
upon my second stage of teachership. But I 
had learned to go forward, though weak, when 
the pursuit of life seemed to demand it, trusting 
to Him who teaches that the life is more than 
meat, and the body than raiment. When I re- 
turned in autumn, my husband had returned for 
the winter from Chicago, and was stopping with 
his daughter, who married one year laofore, 
and commenced house-keeping m the spring. I 
stopped at a brother's, and my husband called 
to ask that Charlie and self should be allowed 
to stay through the winter at a dollar a week 
each. His request was granted. I was yet 
waiting the time for which I had ever hoped, 
when i should enjoy a peaceful, quiet home^ and 
at last apply to my husband's " malady " the 
remedy he had so long since discovered. I had 
in autumn become so strong as to believe that I 
might, in a hired house in the village, where the 
intellect, and heart, and soul could be fed with- 
out serving guests in my own house, do without 
hired help. Before I left the Island, I consulted 
a man who owned a house on the Plain in Shef- 
field, and found he would hire to us the second 
floor for thirty-five dollars per year. I ventured 
to write my husband and tell him the terms, 
suggest that it might be a good home for us, 
and ask him to reply before I should leave the 
Island. Before giving further particulars of my 
husband's course, I will copy such letters as he 
was led to address me, from which, as from those 
addressed to my former self, the reader can draw 
his osvn inferences. 

SOMONAUK, nth June, 18-49, Monday. 
Mrs. Little: Your letter which was mailed 
the 3d May, I did not get till last Friday, 8th 
June. Where it bad been so long, I do not 
know. I received intelligence of Charlie's sick- 
ness by letter from Anna, but not till he had got 
better so as to run about. I was thus spared 
the pain of being left in suspense about his get- 
ting along. I went to the interior, seventy 
miles, in the stage, on business, and on my re- 
turn, had the misfortune to have my left leg 
broken, both bones between the knee and ankle 
a little below the middle, by stage accident. 



A mothek's peace offekino. 



47 



The roniU WPfo Awful. I huppily had ft friond | I will hor« axpUln. rhurlUt. whnn ha wa 



il lip mt MM l<> kvvp ii tiirMi^iit, ntiii 
'■»t«i?i«^ of tho oih«.r pf»'MiAni.««r?«. e^'t 



my iiv 
wi'.h 111 

nil 

q' 

J. M,-.. ,.l-l 

r. r. Mr. I 

rii' . i llitii Fr.. 

day, Hiiii Htaia tire ditys. 1 am sixty miiea 

from Chicajco. 

Tho house in which I ntn eonfli'od ia a log- 
houHe, cif^hty foot lonfr, and known liy tiie name 
of the tour-ftory houno, but f 
on Iho Ilriil li()<^r. I liavo l> 

daii.i n- .i ii. II I .W'-n care f>f. : .» 

b- .lud and attcnlivo to me. I 

hii ..lit, nud can bear most of my 

wii^iii >.u luy Itioiu leg, and get about prettr 
co'ii''>rtf\»ilv (m crutches. Shall probably go out 
8(1 - t.>-day. TliiH ia tl.o tlrst letter I 

li 1 •ince tho luvident, except a few 

li! ■• ' '■ >'• ''<\. I might 

h". I few days 

ear < I am in 

hopes tn \>v ubiw iti waik in a low days, and re- 
turn to Oliicago. This accident has so much in- 
terrupted my business, that I may not be able to 
return till i)ctober. My bodily health during 
nr: •' ' ' t as usual. Give 



Mt Dear Sos : Your father felt very bad to 
know that you had beeu .so sick, but was glad 
to lp«m that ynii had got belter. I have also 
br ', not from Bickne.«s like 

yi 1 lesr. I lay upon my 

buir.,.'.. „. ■■■••• ' ' ' '^' the bed or 

turning over. :ter, so that 

I c»n sit by I; s letter. It 

is a long time since yuu and your mother wrote 
to me, but only three days since I got the letter. 
I hope I .'dmll have another before long. Do 
you go to school this summer? If you do, I 
hope you will have a go- 1 •■ — ' - be a gooti 
boy, and will Icnrn t') ^: vrds. Has 

your Uncle Levi got you; , Tie yet? If 
ho has, I H\ippos<> you are almost ready to begin 
to draw hay? lu tho part of country where I 
am, we see things which you do not see in Shef- 
field. Amongst other things are tho great 
prairies. l)o you know what prairies are? I 
will try to tell you. A praine is a very largo 
parcel of land without any trees upon it, and in 
aome places no treoa in sii^ht. It is nil level or 
nearly so and wo can see a great way oil It 
is covered with grais and llowors in summer, and 
looks very handsomo. And th<>n (here are wild 
bens running about i a great bird 

which they call t; When it 

stands up and strci' - .> .>- ;. v ;^ it is almost 
as high as Uncle < tiRrlcs. I wish to write a 
good many more loiters, an<l so will bid you 
go<)d-by for the present, and hope you will be 
Will and happy till I see you again. 
From your father, 

Mn. LiTTLB. 



U' 

pcur i:i 
oullivtu 



Murjr rt .1 
'lliflti, I M 



>iu IS toe gray tiair to man, niiU an 

'• ri!d nco, how o!'i will .Mary ap- 

s who have 

I ten!' He 

I r< Miiko. But I 

. re»pccl to Clary's 



Chicago, 24th Aug. 1849. 
My I»kar <'habi,ik: Do you not think your 
Cither lias been gorx" a lone, lonp timo, and do you 
not waiit to have li ! 't.- 

you, my dtar son. ; 

limy ' ■' ■ - • ' ■ 

it 

V' .■-•■..■ 1 

supposu imvo got your now wagon lioiio long bo- 
fore this; and you have probably been to school 
some, and I hope have been very well since 
you had that bad spell of sickness last spring; 
and I hope you have ei.j ' - " " 
Yes, I hojio you have i 

me it has been very u... ..... . . ..:i 

mostly amongst strangers, a great way from 

home, and lor a long time unable to get about at 

all, and another long time had to walk with 

crutches; and oh I how nfmn I thought of my 

dear Charlie, ,i ' " - 

ever slow ai,; 

summer is nl 

be here. In 

about vtry co; .; 

so heavily U(X)u lue. My booiiy htraiin haa been 

good ever since I left home; so tli.nt, wiili sH my 

trouble, I have great cause to 1 

kind and good I'rovidonco w! 

me. I wrote to you and your ; 

of weeks ago, and have been ■ 

this good while. I think I ..i 

October, and perhaps the lore-port ot iho n.onih. 

I hope you will bo well and happy till 1 sco you 

again. What does your mother tlnd to do this 

summer? Is she* pretty indu.slrious? I do not 

suppose that you cun w " 

tiona, but perhaps she iJi: 

There seems also to bo n. 

are not big enough yet to re.-id this . 

answer it if you should wish to. Si 

but you will have to be dei>endeut on ujultier 

for both. H'-momber me to grnndpa, to mother, 

Un ' , '. I'ameli:i, t: v. .r 

CO ~a who wiH 

if u.. .. '=•• a ji.-,.. i-._>. ...... any 

you ha\ i your 

.\ -. Mb. Litt!.k. 

Master t.UAKu^u) iiii.sKT Little. 

These are the communications from the hu»- 
bond and father, addrctiseU to tuyaelf and child 



48 



A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 



during the first season of his absence from me 
since our marriage. 

He returned in October, and took us to the 
farm he had put into the possession of the second 
son, where our family consisted of himself, my- 
self, Charlie, and 'Irish Mary," as Charlie termed 
her. He was gloomy and silent, but not wrath- 
ful. N'o accusations were made; no explana- 
tions asked or given. He assisted me to go to 
the situation I had obtained upon Long Island 
on the first of May followiug. Two weeks after 
I entered that field I addressed a letter to him 
in Charlie's name, to which he replied as fol- 
lows: 

Sheffield, 25th May, 1850. 

My Dear Chaklie: I received your letter of 
the 13ih inst., a few days ago. I was very glad 
to Itarn that you got safely to the end of jour 
journey, and that you are quite well. You seem 
to like your home very much, and I hope you 
are very happy. But if you continue to eat five 
times a day I do not know but you will grow so 
large that I shall not know you, sure enough, 
when I see you again. I saw Ellen and Charlie 
Banholomew a few days ago, but I had not 
then heard from you. They are very well, and 
seemed to be glad to see me. The peach-trees 
were all in lull blossom when I was there, but 
the season is remarkably cold and wet and back- 
ward. Few of the farmers are yet through jilant- 
ing, and some have not yet commenced. Tt is 
truly a discouraging time. I believe your cou- 
sins are all in g- od health. Emily was here yes- 
terday, or rather the day before, to get Elvira's 
letter. She came at noon from school. I hope 
you will be careful and not go too near the 
water. The ocean is all about you there, and 
there may be danger of getting into it if you be 
not cautious. I hope to hear fiom you again be- 
fore long, and hope you will not forget your luv- 
ing father, R. Little. 

Mr. Charles H. Little. 

P. S. — Anna sends love to Charlie, and I think 
many others would if they knew I were going to 
write. 1 have not seen Uncle Lent and Julia 
since I got your letter, but think I shall soon, 
and will then do your love to them. 

My husband went to Chicago for the summer. 
I do not find in my po.ssession any letters 
from him while there in the summer of 1850. I 
still indulged the hope that the "malady " of his 
mind w^s curable, and that opportunity was soon 
to be afforded me of ministering under circum- 
stances favorable to such a r^ult. 

As I have mentioned, I ventured to suggest 
that he should hire rooms in a house upon the 
Plain, and asked a reply before my return to 
Sheffield. He replied as follows : 

Sheffield, Friday 15th, Nov. 1850. 

Charlie and his Mother: I have only time 
to write a few words. It will not be convenient 
for me to comply with your request respecting a 
certain house you mentioned. I hope you are 
both well, and suppose you will be home before 
long ; friends are well, so far as I know. In 
haste. R. Little. 

Tell Charlie, father would like well to see him. 

The above did not arrive before I left Long 



Island for Sheffield. I stopped at a brother's, as 
I have stated, and Mr. Little CHllod and con- j 
trocted for myself and boy to stay through the 
winter. Avoided seeing me except in Ihe pres- 
ence of others. Some time in December he 
called; said he wished to communicate to me in 
the presence of others ; that he desired to make 
me the offer of seventy-two dollars a year for 
my own support, and seventy-two for Charlie's, 
which he said would pay one dollar a week for 
the board of each, and Itave twenty dollars each 
for other expenses annually". He told me that 
he had given notice to the public not to trust me 
on his account, and asked me if I would accept 
his proposal. I told him I thought that as my 
strength then was the amount wa=i too little. 
He left, and a few days later the following was 
brought me from his hand by the school-children. 

JIrs. Little: Although it is painful hr me to 
dwell upon this subject, it seems to be necessary 
and proper that it should be pursued until an 
arrangement shall be concluded. With regard 
to the proposal I made to you, I know of no par- 
ticular reason why it might not be continued, as 
I gave you to understand. But if my trials 
should crush me, in mind or body, it might be 
interrupted, and there may be other unforeseen 
events which might produce the same results. 
In my present state I am not willing to entangle 
myself with bonds of any kind, and I suppose 
you would not expect it. 

As respects dear Ch^irlie. I did iTot intend it as 
any thing permanent, for the reason that increas- 
ing years will necessarily bring increasing wants, 
and I do not intend that he slrall suffer f >r want 
of t-upply while I can supply him. And further- 
more, after a suitable time, if I live, I shall 
probably preft-r having him with me, than to 
paying "for his board abroad. I suppose I can 
have a place to stay with some one of my child- 
ren while I remain upon the earth. 

With regard to furniture, it is my wish that 
you take away every thing that you brought 
with you, and leave to me all our old furniture, 
together with what has been manufactured in 
the hou-e at my expense. Many of the old art- 
icles are of little or no value ; and I thirk it 
would be doing injustice to others to have the 
best or most useful selected out. 

Thus closes the epistolary address of R. Little 
to his chosen and wedded self. I understood the 
cau-cs of this depression, as I could not then as- 
sist otbers to understand. Yet hope of a cure 
did not forsake me. I looked upon this as a 
crisis where amendment might begm. I penned 
a repiy, in strong hope of helping him into a hap- 
pier life. I would gladlj^ insert it here, but can 
not eornmuud it ; neither can I recall it distinctly. 
I know that I urged him to take whatever he 
felt that he could, in justice to others, use for his 
own his wife's and youngest child's support, and 
hire the rooms I had mentioned, where I should 
hope, by dispensing with visitors, to be able to do 
wiihout hired help, and would accept twenty 
dollyrs a year each, to cover other expanses than 
board for Charlie and self; and would gladly do 
all in my power to make his life comfortable and 
happy. 

lie called soon after, and said to me: "It 
won't do for me to live with you. Such would 



A MOTH Kit's PEACE OFFERING. 



41) 



J>e TOtir intcrf»>t ii rifrrrr m^v^d n Tr?H-"r V yv>f, I lh«« y»n5n of ffolipn flint fl.o popnlnoo di'l nn» «n 
tioD, Hint if I 
alono. mv cl. 

f]. ' ' 
tl 

Ih; ■ 



I- 

F' 

7th .■:. ii.ic-r, i;."i \ : • 

My h'.iltli will iTui. li rt'cluocd br these now 

trinlH. Still 1 ' -^ > •Mvsoui m fltaid on 

IJ...J fti„l k.].' 

I ]<'.•[ ■. . nr one to opon n 

b' -•• liir llie rreujiiiou of mys^'lf :ind 

pdi. 1 ir p-^r wftk F r''>*»<1»xl V>'it !!»'!■< 

food, bit 1 ; ' 

opportuiiiiv t' 
witi) t; 
tor llio r 

»t.(l W.l' , 

<Mi the 1st ot April, Ihol, when my husband 
mmo to me, kivmi/ \\y.\t \ cf>:!i nrit livo by my- 
aolf upon thf ' I pro- 

pocuUd ihnt tn me 

111. 



to : • 

dib«t!i-lolj Ulitl Slrilc l,,ij{l,t bi- < AC litlfti ; ai li to 

orUiT n ho»i1i» vvh^r<» n "«v>n<n rvntrir" hnd no 
foothold. My" 
Kistotxy in nl 
kind, w I •'• 

led to : ;o 

payacf. -t 

child nil ihtj end of tiiu quarter, aithoti^rh he had 
given notice to thf> public not to trust ary otic to 
his nci-f ■.. «. w<>ro wiUiont a dollar in 

hand. \s-hi-.h I brouelit with mo on 



peace, with a 

Rrtidofl of fin 

hundred dollaro or nicro. licforo lakiu^; py.- 

^CwioD of nir premattir- Iv widnwfd bon.e 1 nd- 

tlr^- ■ • ■ * . "^ ■ '■ • 



wna en 



and iiie w iw iiux'ui.T 
but we do kririrv that 



u Miiui. A' i:.' ri IS iim an i :.' i i iji ;!;v iii.iviTW, 
eilhiT in uiiud or in muttor, which baa nut ilit 
catim-. 

I wsM told during llila fin>t year <■' 
tion that Mr. I ittlo said if uny eupi' 
lifulty I tnsclf and m" ha.j un.-m it, 

tliiv u ■ I was toi.l iliiit il,o-i. to 



there. ■ 

Soon afUr th<» p-rpint'on of th«» fifp» T«»nr of 
my separate ' ^ •• 

to me n.s a 



rcmovtd. 1 had t» • ■ i 

, so far as I knew my ». <> 

witl,li..l.l H ri^bt or rcaM3nab!ft requi-t Ji.-m odg 

of tb<» .•liililnn. 1 told liidfih I vi.-ui uillinj^ to 

• ■ ' ' ' 1 do in 

' mo to 

. ,_. ... .. i,.).- ; ■ r, and 

that I thought It i > treat 

for a provi-ion for n. He 

replied: "1 believe pa io cru/.y. ' i said: "I 
have lonir tliought your father insane upon the 
subject of a provision for mtself and children, 
but an loDcr an I ntand alone in tlio opinion it 

• '■ Yet not V, ' - • • - ' lu 

-perity, at ; 

to my mu '. ■ r 

who paw my ca- 
I said ; " I" rrn i : 

Ivr V. .ill u.\ t-r. ihren, 1 '. ^ 

ia lif «t.'' Aftf-r afveral • 



no reply ; a- 

obliged to pur 

becau*e I was unabio to it<» il. i wa.s iibie tin- 

tir.<t or trin) yr^tr of mv now pxT>«^ei"^ t> do f.^r 



Wbicil 111 



h«. 



tl. 

t\. 

K 

ki:. : . 

tho lifrti wmitr. luni lir t'uapman visited liiiii 
twiop. ?f »>n<l bpf>n my fortune to r^rr'ivo fp.ni 
y-' • . of rtve 

'J' nc In- 

Ul. -i .-. .-. . 1 ,■ , 
and thus was I pr. 

pay his physician. ' _ ■. . .;:. ^ ... 

icr's allowance on tho Ist April, Inj',*, 1 p.n!(l up 
my last bill for tho years expcn.sc!'. My Sfuil 
was gre^itly rtfreshed throiitrh being where my 
position could be accurately dctlnc^, although 



il. This art <•! 
. tnysclf purel/ t" : v. 

i>i!nlt:ii ui>on mc— ' I'S and 

taxes, as well n."* • . to the 

time of rec«'ivipp tli. ul.iri w.lii to j»i.y my own 
oblicTitioti". Hi'!»ide. there was one sidf of iho 



fi. :<8 dug, aiM 1 

b" ■'• ine. Bill i. 

niat'.e. Af;. r laying wa.^ ovf-r, the ii< ii;li4A»ts' 
cattle paaUux'd on the field without paying; and 



50 



A mother's peace offering. 



eveutuilly the fence timber was tHkea away, and 
110 explanation given. I never asked auy ; for 
1 6U[)i)o»e tUat men and larger boys undcrstnnd 
tlieiBtelves. and I have no ide-a that it becomes 
ine to calJ tiiem to account. They have a Ma.s- 
ter who will n it neglect His duty. lie is allowed 
to keep a Book, and in his own time he will un- 
ioosQ the seals thereof. He is no re-'pfi:-.ter of 
persons, but whosoever feareih him and worketh 
righix'ousuess shall be accepted of him. All the 
children of Adam go as--ray as soon as they be 
born, speaking lies. They must be born again 
before they will love and obey the truth. But 
phrenologists will tell us that untruthfulness is 
more largely developed in some than in others. 
This fact or result has its cause. DouoLless, one 
cause is found in the sharp business tact of mer- 
chant fathers. I doubt not it was so in the case 
of the sous of Jacob. When children who have 
such an inheritance become motherless, the hu- 
mane feel bound to believe all that they say, 
without asking for proof, or considering their 
temptation. Thus, instead of restraint, is cul- 
ture ; instead of religion, perverted nature. 

I thank God that with all my trials he has 
given me to live, and teach my oflspring to love 
the truth, and obey the truth, let it cost them 
what it may. 

There being an unoccupied academy opposite 
my hired ro)ms, I was solicited to teaeli a tbw 
pupils in thebuildiog, during the summer of 1S52, 
the second year of my unexampled widowhoi'd. 
To thi.i I the more readily assented, because I 
chose to watch the etfect of my boy's application 
to books kuovving that I better understood his 
powers to endure mental eflort than a stranger 
could. He was now seven years of age. His 
natural mental activity, and his sicknesses affect- 
ing the brain, had made it necessary that he 
should be diverted from study, rather ihan urged 
to it. He was greatly delighted with the idea of 
being in school, and particularly with going to 
unlock the door and riug the bell, a given time be- 
fore the opening of each morning's ses.-ion. In a 
few days I discovered that his health was v/aning, 
and contrived as many ways as i could to tind 
erraods or diversions for him away from school. 
Having been one afternoon to the store, of an 
errand, he came into my school one hour before 
the time for closing, saying: "Mother, I am 
sick." I took him upon my la[), and said: 
"School will close in an hour." He sat a mo- 
ment, and saiu : " Mother, I can't wait till school 
is out, and I can't walk home. What shall I do ?" 
I said: "I will write out the record now, and 
go home with you." I began to repeat the names 
of the pupils, when he laid his head upon my 
shoulder, and said: "Oh! write the marks, but 
don't talk." I bore him home in my arms, and 
laid him upon the bed, when he desired me not 
to move about the room, but to sing the little 
songs 1 used to sing to him. This was early in 
May. I looked from my open window, and see- 
ing a neighbor, asked him to go for a physician. 
The physician arrived in an hour or two. Charlie 
was looking wildly across the room, and entreat- 
ing me to send away the big boys, or moving his 
arms vertically back and forth, and saying: 
"Mother, why don't the bell ring?" Ho soon 
commenced boring his pillow with his head, and 
talking in a low and incoherent manner, while 
ho noticed nothing that was said to him. None 



who saw liini expected him to recover from that 
illness. A porr.imi of calomel was administered 
to him during the doctor's first visit, and after- 
wards homeopathic doses of aconite aiid bella- 
donoa As nothing seemed to soothe him so 
much as to have some one continue squeezing a 
clolii from a vessel of cold water, and with it 
stroke his brow, this practice was continued al- 
most without intermission for three days. Then 
his low muttering erased, his fever left him, his 
extremities became cold, and the purple beneath 
his nails told that life's current was about to 
cease its motion, when it occurred to me to im- 
merse his hands in warm water. I did it, and 
fiund that the purple was removed from btneath 
his nails. I then had his feet placed in warm 
water with the same results. But while attend- 
ing to his feet, his hands resumed their former 
appearance. I then caused them to be again 
placed in warm water, and in the mean time 
caused some potatoes to bo cut in slices of a half 
inch thick and laid upon the top of the stove, 
and turned till they were as warm as could be 
borne by the flesh. Then as soon as the water 
could be wiped from his hands, I caused these 
slices to be bound inside the palms of his hands 
and upon his wrists, and as soon as this was 
done, his feet were served in the same way. I 
then thought of some wine I had in the house, 
and had just taken the bottle in hand when my 
physician entered. I said to him : " Doctor, is 
my boy about leaving me ?" He looked at his 
half-opou and motionless eyes, and said : " His 
eyes look very bad." I said: ''I was about to 
give him some wine as you came in ; what do 
you think of it V" He inquired : " Can he swal- 
low?" I replied : "I v.^et his mouth a moment 
ago, and he swallowed then." He said: "It 
may be well to reduce it a good deal so that it 
shall not strangle him, and try it." We did so, 
and finding that he swallowed the dilution, the 
doctor said he wished he might have a little weak 
chicken-tea. I immediately set a vessel of water 
over the fire, and went to a near neighbor and 
asked her to let me have a chicken. She took 
a handful of corn, stepped to her door and threw 
it down before a brood of late chickens, which 
she thus reared in the winter, and as they were 
eating it, she stooped and caught one and wrung 
its neck. I ran home, took a sharp knife and 
severed a leg and a wing from the body, and 
peeled off' the skin, and put the limbs into the 
water, where they were boiled five minutes, and 
in fifteen minutes from the time the chicken-tea 
was spoken of, the doctor was feeding it to the 
patient. In a few minutes the doctor said : 
" His fever is coming back, and I am glad to see 
it." From that hour he began to amend. In a 
few days he was able to be carried into the 
open air. He had, while recovering, seasons of 
delirium, which he since distinctly recollects. 
On one occasion he called very loudly for his 
mother, and on my telling him that I was bis 
mother, he expressed the utmost contempt. He 
now recollects that he thought I was John Doten. 
He at length became able to walk, and helped 
himself out of doors one day, but on arising the 
next morning, could not bear his weight upon 
his lower limbs, though otherwise as well as the 
day before. I had been conversant with a case 
of chronic debility in the lower limbs, of a child 
on recovering from disease upon the brain. I 



A MOTHEU'S TEACK OFFEKING. 



51 



wnM imprvinirxl with ttio impnrtmcw of rMrtorintr I heiofr Uie rMitornilon or itrenffth hv the journey. 



cars, tfV'k I 

iiioriiii. 

L 1., u 

|)ort. 

Jnim PI 

a slrai 

HiiiKiii^'ioii, u Rtranf^r canio iiit<> the room and 

irKlvi'i i •',' :it iiileil tlio boy, liaviiig noticod that 

tl> IT took L'iin from tho elnf^ in Inn 

:i i him liis case, and ho roinurkod it 

V. • ■ - lie would rocovtr 

! I w.uKl |ilac« liiin 

li; -• tn- Wo'llil put 

i. wover, choco 

i" 1 o<»t- After 

urnui.h' iti i 'ii la Nuiibport, I found 

niy-fll Mufti : ly, around and thn>Ui:li 

tit hiiw, from my exertions in 



from soreness. liie next mornin); afier our 
urriviil, CliMrlio iilid from his bed. and exclaimed : 
'Why, nintherl 1 can boar my weight." llo 
founil tlioro a plavmuto, went out upon tho 
gr ■ ■ ' ' ■ ",(1 1110 to HfO 

li - to any thinf? 

w.- , .. _ called (o me 

to conio nnd .see that he could walk a few ^Icps 
aloao. AVo nnlo on to tho Xet-k. where wo had 
once epont a summer, and in a few day^ ho wa.s 
so far rp«t/iri d that I returned to SlietBeld and 
r- > ■'. But 00 a.skinp Charlie to 

fr ihe boll, ho said: "Mother, I 

do,. . .. • '■ --■ ■ -■ ■! ■ ■ ' ■ • 

time 1 r 

school ' 

troubled IIH-, In Au^U-st, u cJind oJ liie family 

occupying the first floor of our hon«o sickened 

aad died of dy.m-utery. The next week I had a 

very severe utiaok of the game oomphimt. Mv 

hn- ■ ' •■ - -- - • ' ' ■■ ■- 

h 

h . : I:. 



rd 
',o 

. " ■ d 

had th)' yrar proviouM i a 

ftw days with hlin on I 

ci'led to wild ('h;ir ■ k 

with his father, if i ii 

nut, to (f<> on ■ '\ 

distrioi, aixl ' I 

rtlurnwl, and . . .. . .^ ,..,.... .. ■ 

rooms for the winter, liut before the cl<#c of 
winter, I was obliged, on account of Charlie's 
weak nerves, to difcnntinuo mj* school. I lived 
one mile from church, ai d I'hiirll* van now un- 
able to endure tie air ■ -•■, 
and not williiij; to be U " y, 
while I went out • • t 
rooms oovild be i (:i 
new building near ira 
per year, I removed to liiat buiioing eariy in 
March of 1853. On April !^r«'t. mr.:{, or at the 
expiration of my «• whootl, I kad 
piveu niy notes li : sevenl}' dol- 
lars, b< side exp< : I well un- 
den-toml that the ^ increaetd my 

expoLfies had ari-. '..xcrtion, and 

resolved to bo more wise lor pa.«l cxi>erience. 
I attempted nothinf^ but to do for myself and 
child, as our necessities re<iuired, and the third 
year I paid all duos contrai^u-.l diirinp that year, 
at its cloiw : thoce wh<' to 

llio thus widowed and ig 

, ,, ,.n .K,., r. ., .,..,...1 .,. 

. ■ . ■ ■•-1 

mu lo viMil liiem, i wa8 imiuuvd. near the close 
of tho fourth year, which had b«'en ."pent much 
as tho tliird, to appropriate the money used in 
payine rents and tupplyine our table, lo pji\ing 



nup<e, in tho pen-on of a yoimij woman, who, 
the winter before, Ibok tho Huiail-iKix from rags 
in the pap«T mill in our place, was employed to 
take earo of mo, at a chanye of three dollars per 
W' ' ■ log in tho houst? 

b If. In two weeks 

I : .1.1 .^... t 

]< 



- ■ ■ '^'7 

child to lieiroit, by way of Niagara iails and 
Candida. ab<iut the middle of J.ti.uary, 1H55. 
where I remained till tho latter part <>f A|>ril. I 
then went t<i Gnind Kapid^. by w:iy of Kulama- 
zoo; and the bitter part ' " ' " 

Wild Wowls, or a now ' 1 



since lilt; diiiv^- •>( my i>oy. Nolmug but tlie a|>- 
plieat'ori of (Hild \v»ter gave relief. 

• A my ri-oovery soliritod 
t" i.. I., to teach, or to .K«iid 

V. 1 

g" - ■ :r 

the c<>iminer in oiiotheid. 1 Uierorore went on to 
open tho school, and intrcHluoo Mim Holmes lo it 
on her arrival, and to explain to her my own 
method pursued in the school ; my main ohject 



wife (ouo yo*r tuurrioi) died bvo we«kd iwfuro 
our arrival. 

This was an en ' -If and 

son, inasmuch ».- . a.M ao 

othorsi of tho • 111' .-^i I. .li.ifpoint 

in tho hist' : ! our own divided 

houwhol'i. : vhib' on l.ii l.u.ti- 

msv* stay in tJiiaago in Charlies name, .'jpeakin^ 
of tho novel ftcenos around u.% and of our intorcrt 
in llu'in; mv««'lf iiuiulging Uic secret liopo that 
ho might be induced to return to Massachusetts 



52 



A mother's peace offering. 



i-hrough that part of Michigan and give us a call, 
and, perhaps, coQclude to take up there a humble 
home in which to spend his winters with us, so 
long as his business required his presence at Chi- 
cago through the summer. 1 did not presume to 
ask him to do this, because I had, when we were 
all in Sheffield, invited him, verbally and by note, 
to dwell with us, to wiiieh he had made no reply. 
He only called to make quarterly payments, and 
on town-meeting days, or to bid a good-by to 
Charlie when about to go West. He said but 
little. His fate seemed inexplicable to himself. 
His countenance and tone seemed a prayer for 
relief which his soul disdained to utter. He at 
one time told me that he was generally able to 
keep his countenance in the presence of others, 
but when at work alone, weeping was his relief, 
and he believed he had shed barrels of tears. I 
thought, when in Michigan, that if he would see 
lit to join us so far from his "Conservator,"' he 
might, like the subject of an absent psychologist, 
have power to judge for himself, and act for his 
own personal benetit. But the true workmgs of 
his mind were to be developed in a way that I 
could not mark out. I find in my possession but 
one letter of his after his open desertion, in 1851, 
till autumn of 1855. It is as follows: 

Chicago, 22d May, 1852. 

Dear Charlie: I have learned by Anna's 
letters how very sick you have been. I longed 
to be with you and give you comfrt, but I was 
far aw^ay and could do nothing to give you relief 
I have heard of your getting better from time to 
time, and now learn that you are in a fair way 
of getting well, which is a great relief to me, as 
I felt very anxious about you until I knew you 
was better. I hope you will be protected from a 
return of your disease, and be quite well soon. 

This is from your aflectionate father, 

Ralph Little. 

I will here mention that this was the year 
when my expenses were so much beyond my 
income, by reason of sickness, and that when 
my husband made the quarterly payment, Oc- 
tober first, of that year, he told me he had 
paid the girl who took care of me when sick, 
and abated the amount. I was afterward pained 
to learu that lie canceled it by turning it to pay 
a demand which he held against her father, a 
poor man. Also when he paid the next quar- 
ter's allowance he abated a dollar for Charlie's 
board Thanksgiving week, while I was gone to 
the Massachusetts Teacliers' Association. He 
a'so spoke of abating a dollar a week for Char- 
lie's board with him during ray sickness; but I 
ventured to beg, and with success, that he would 
do so much, as a neighbor, toward bearing ihe 
burden of our sickness, inasmuch as there were 
tho^e who would have done it, in additian to 
tiieir other gratuitous assistance. I mention 
this to show that the unnatural state of his mind 
about defraying expenses for sickness on one 
side of his house was not removed. The next 
date of his is addressed to my brother, in De- 
troit, and is near the close of his own life. 

Sheffield, 7 th November, 1855. 
Dear Sir : I yesttrday received a line from 
Jane, requesting me to send to you the sum I 
was to pay first October. I shotdd have sent it 



sooner, but had no directions. I hero inclose 
eighteen dollars, which is intended for Charlie's 
expenses. I suppose you have an understanding 
with her, and wdl know what to do with it. 
Intend to have it registered at the office, and 
hope it may arrive safely. 

Respectfully yours, Ralph Little. 

Mr. James A. Rots. 

Hope you will be good enough to forward the 
within few lines to Charlie in some way. 

R. Little. 

Sheffield, "Tth Nov. 1855. 

Dear CiiARLiE : Your last letter to me was a 
long time on the way. I should probably have 
answered it sooner but did not well know where 
to direct. It has been rumored that you had 
gone to Iowa. I am glad to learn that you arc 
well, and hope you are spending your time hap- 
pily in that new part of the country. Have you 
been to school, so as to learn to write yet ? I 
hope you take lessons occasionally, if you do not 
go to school. I should be very glad to have an- 
other letter from you soon, if convenient. It 
seems a long time since I have seen you. We 
have never been apart so long before. But I 
trust you have not forgotten your fiitlier. It is 
not convenient for me to write more now. Hope 
you will be gratified with even this short letter, 
and say it is better than none at all. 

Your affectionate father, R. Little. 

Master Charles Henry Little. 

The next date is the latest, and to me bears 
the impress of a finishing-stroke of a mind deep, 
and strong, and calmly mad. 

Sheffield, Dec. 24th, 1855. 

Dear Sir: It is the request of your sister 
Jane that, what money I send West for her use, 
should be inclosed directly to you. I here in • 
close eighteen do lars for the first of January, 
1856. It is for Charlie's expenses. It is pro- 
bable that I shall not send any more until I 
learn something about Charlie, and how lie 'n 
getting on. I have much anxiety on his ac- 
count; I fear his precious lime is being spent 
without that improvement which he ought now 
to be making, and which is so essential to his 
future well-being. I am much at a h'ss what 
course it is proper to adopt with regard to him. 
I have thought that if you were willing to tako 
him and bring him up in your business, (in case 
he would be contented to stay with you,) that 
that might be as well as any course that I could 
adopt for him. I should expect still to help him 
on until he should be able to earn his own living. 
I hope you will consider the subject, and give 
me your views as soon as convenient. Do not 
think me hasty ; I have had the subject in con- 
templation for a long time. While my health 
and strength shall be spared, I shall expect to 
be back and forth through your region every 
season, and shall always call and see him. 

Yours respectfully, R. Little. 

Mr. Jas. a. Roys. 

Please forward the inclosed to Charlie, wher- 
ever he may be, if you know. If not, retain it 
till you ascertain. It contains a dollar. R, L. 



A MOTlIEU'a I'KACK OKFEKINO. 



53 



C;uirrrti'i r. • ttli It, .- 
PEXn ClIARUR 
Thai dar, lo Im m. 

yuu git itiifl, but Hlill 1 vki^ii \"U u M<^r. 
riin«. Mfp'- yon nr»» w«'ll mihI happy 
K" ■ ■ 



1 s.'. 


'• 


Hut 


ilio first < 
<• that it 

'. rn >\ V.f '.V 


l.iv 








. ( i. 


i.,t- 


lucr I. 






Di.l 


v<iu 


n nihil 







uilii a bad <iii<l, but itiii tiniiv 
J hi ri' iiicl«>S'' oiio dolliir for a .'. 

From yciiir ftllo<ii"iiatt< fitl.tr, K 
UOAtvr CllAKL>-S ilLNKY Lini.K. 



LlUIE. 



Wo will now look after tho manner in which 
liirlii'd time wi>R Wmg Rpeiit. uftt-r leaving 
tihi-fllvld, nearly i«ho year biforo thia date. 
Shortly U-furo wo lcl\ Mr. I.iltle cnmo U> my 
brotliot'ii, whoru wo were making nacly lor our 
journi'v, and led rhnrlio by the hand to his 



ilic |>iiM 



11 the comimniooBbip of a Hiiif-itivo, 



11' ■ - . 

i bad taken wilh mo pik) 
wiflhod him to ••t'vly, Vnt k' 
bado t ]. 
in mak 
lluwerH 
mo in 



1, 

r I a felvd. 1 aduituustcrcd iluOu-a- 

I 'rnrnif^. aconite Bud hi-Uadonno, 
u ved that 1 pct out upon 

II Uiit the motion of the 
. lat lip was unable to eit 

Alter stoi'pinjf in De- 
tr . -.seemed bctt'. r; but a 

regular iitaii iclii- again returned with a good 
deal offtverislnus*. I consulted a Ilomcopaihic 
physician, who only pnsiTibcd the same r*.me<lie9 
I Wiis iid:iiiiii>-trniiL'. hut advised me to repeat 
<! ■ ■ ' . - ,' •' ' ' ' lT. 



i: 'I air; so that his 

<; •<> ask him not to 

coiiie 1 h, for a time 

aftor I , w^>« to hi" 



learned the d 

himself wit , '<■ 

country, neur orand liapids, ami during tho 
m'>nth of May, commai.dol tlio admiration nf 
I (he fimiiios who extended lo 

' v, ))y his wonderful exploits 



]uu,.-^ '.i ui.d w.l'c, r<><.Mv' a hr.tUs t^'k up iLu.r 
nhmh- in nit tinbroken wildcnions, riiariid wn.M 



toes for tlie ; 
spent in nii 
bu-iiM'!»s of packui^ 
p< r ihouwnd. Hi.« • 
for him, that ho i 
when tho plantin 



cviicviiiuig till- iulurii Uiic dity <u> I was B.ll.ng, 
wilh no one else pr<^«»>nt, In' ««!<!: "Mother, 
what (ihall 1 do vs' ' ' ' : 

" I'hdrlio, wo nu;>' , 

when a child, had - . . 

th( r liMH died, and I 1 ■■" 

" Well," Mid ho, bur!»tii , .d 

brothers and sisters ; but my broihera and slitters 
don't care any thing about me." T *"«id : " You 
have the comfort of knowing it is i. -f 

any wrong you have done thoin. T 

love to you nri.scfl prol ' ' g 

to have you share in • ." 

"f don't cafi' ."iv il, i • .. , >- 

perty," said ! " 1 want o 

love me." i ^ing of hi- d 

.amiling throu>;h hid loars, he a'Jd<d: ' Tl.ire'a 
Ktlon and Carrie, and (loorpo and Kddie — llicy 
• ■ .•• I will ' ' • !- 

irlio, with " 

r^, , .....r of HW.,. ... .... 

after our return to Shcflicld. 

Sn«rriKt.D, Doc. isio. 

PrAR rm.R FR«NK : I think thnt Ti<>no of 



of tho ('-iftiirt, tlmn liiy^' lli I ani in- 
to leal uncles at i .n- •- •" r t ■ ■ \. r of 
on earth And ;' r 
.1 rs T rr-Tipv n" ) '1 
by the '. 
and o. ' 



.oiiih^'li.s ill a L«rUiin rate 
n.|n aharponod a lijrht »x" 



htal K'bniarv. iiiil 1 ia.ist uil yuu 1 
Uno'o who i« holinntr In " i»«>t Mi.-l i 



1 

My 

t 

!..<ve uiie 
•ai) out of 



d for the day 



54. 



A mother's peace offering. 



house or auy other public building, I can assure 
you that communications through the post-office, 
from uncles, aunts, or cousins, adopted or real, 
were never so acceptable at any other time or 
place. And now, Uncle Frank, I wish to ask 
one thing of you in a whisper. Please don't 
scold, for I do so dread being scolded. It is this : 
If I furnish a new subscriber for the Cabinet, 
will you send a copy of the forthcoming volume 
to some very nice little girls whose acquaintance 
I made in the new settlement, and who loved 
dearly to read my Cabinet wlien I was there ? I 
know very well that this does not come within 
the limits of your premiums. It is only a pro- 
position of mine that you and I together make a 
donation visit, where so many privations are 
necessarily felt. Perhaps we may, at some fu- 
ture day, meet there, as it is only about twenty 
miles north from the rapidly rising city of Grand 
Rapids, and on the line of a contemplated railroad. 
If you say, no, please admit, if you can, there 
was no harm in asking; and if you siy, yes, 
please direct to Reuben Jewell, Esq., Lapham- 
ville. Kent County, Mich. At all events, send 
the Cabinet to my Aunt Angle, wlio has decided 
to take it for the benefit of her pupils, and has 
authorized me to order it for her. Slie will for- 
ward the pay. Address. Miss Angle Roys, 
Rhinebeck, Dutchess Co., N. Y. 

Your aJiectionate nephew, 

C. H. Little. 

Uncle Prank responded in his Cabinet of March, 
1857, as follows: 

Charles H. Little : You'll make your way 
through the world. I'm sure of that. What a 
persevering Yankee ! I couldn't resist your ap- 
peal touchmg the subscriber out West. The 
Cabinet is to be sent as you desire. 

The only domestic animals we were able to 
keep in the forest home, were a yoke of oxen, 
named Buck and Bright, one of which had a 
horn knocked off while roamiug in the wide pas- 
ture. Charlie had heard his uncle tell of riding 
on horseback in the company of Colonel Fre- 
mont while in Cfthfornia. After the last Presi- 
dential election, Charlie wrote his uncle on his 
own responsibility, and making his own infer- 
ences, he said : " How does Buck's horn get 
along ? You will have to change his name now, 
as you are a Black Republican, that is, a Fre- 
mont man." His uncle, m reply, says: " As for 
a Black Republican, I never wss one except 
while burning logs. A Fremont man, never." 
To show how my way was prepared in Provi- 
dence for that summer's residence, I will copy 
some papers, the date and authorship of which 
must tell without mstake : 

North of Algoma, May 4th, 18.5.5. 

My Dear Sister Jane : I received yours of 
the 28ih April on the first instant, and now, seal- 
ed in my forest home, nearly a mile from any 
human being, surrounded by so luxuriant a 
growth of timber that the woojs are inaccessible 
cf a night, 1 will try to reply. 

It is certainly an alleviation of sorrow to know 
that there are those .vho truly sympathize with 
us in afifiictioD, and I thank you from my heart 
for the expressions of interest which your letter 



contained. Would that such sympathy could re- 
store to me what I have lost. Wtiat / have los', 
did I say ? What the world has lost in the de- 
parture from its precincts of superior talent, un- 
pretending exctllence, and unbiased Christianity, 
such as departed this life with Mary E Roys, 
But she can no more be recalled. We can only 
lament that one so young, so formed by nature 
to receive and import happiness, can dvfell no 
more among us. But I feel that such lamenta- 
lion is a seldshness in ourselves ; for who would 
recall one well beloved from beyond the "dim 
valley of death," to share a lot in a world hke 
this, where all is vanity and vexation of spirit ? 
As you truly observe, the period since we parted 
has been to me one of li:e-experieLce. It has 
been full of the depths of joy and grief, but no 
one but myself can ever appreciate either. Ear- 
ly in the year of my married life, almot't before I 
had learned all the superior mental qualities of 
my Lizzie, qualities which, when knovs-n, caused 
the deep love I before felt to border on idolatry, 
I thought I discovered almost certain symptoms 
of consumption. I can not go on in detail. 
You, I believe, are one of the few who know 
something of my nature. Imagine what must 
have been my life for almost a year, when I 
knew, (or at least reason told me,) that I must 
soon lose her in whom I had centered all my 
afi'ections — when I heard her planning, in tonea 
so faint with weakness as to be audible only to 
the ears of love, long year.s, ay, almost ages of 
prosperity and health, and knew that in a few 
i-hort days, (alas! how fewl) the would need no 
more earth plannings. You offer to eome and 
assist me in housekeeping. How gladly would 
I see you installed as mistre.=s of ceremonies ia 
my lonely domicill 

But I fear that you would not be content to 
stay here in the woods long. My society is the 
birds, and my neighbors (that is, near neighbors) 
are the wolves. But come and pay me a vi-it, 
and judge for yourself My mother-in-law 
thought, when she left me after Lizzie's death, 
that I could not hve here after the loss of my 
wife. But I thought I could live no where else. 
I sometimes think that, for my years, I haye had 
too much woi Id-experience. When very young I 
was aUowed to have my own way, because I 
would not take any ether, and now, at the age 
of thirty, I can look b^ck over a long and dreary 
life. Nothing that I loved was ever long near 
me. I was but a boy when mother died. My 
school friends never remained more than a term 
in the same school. Soon after I was of age I 
left all. Since then I have been a wanderer. I 
saluted the Emperor of Brazil, made my obei- 
sance to the President of Chili, and touched my 
hat to the Queen of the Hawaiian Empire, helped 
to take fiom Mexico her richest province, dug 
gold in California, and walked through the halls 
of the Montezumas, nearly died in the city of 
The True Cross, (Yera Cruz,) was nearly a bach- 
elor, was married, and am now a widower, aged 
thirty. Truly 

" Kingdoms and nations in my little day 
I have outlived, and yet I am not old — 

But I would still survive, 
If but to see what next can well arrive." 



Yours truly. 



John E. Rots. 



A mothkk's pkace offehino. 



bi> 



I w. ■ • • 
for Hi; 
that r< 
HO limiu-ii, 1 

(lllt'f^ Vfr-rf 

tr. 



I ttinl my ri-H'ur«.vi* miJ 
! lo mv •tr^t't'O) The 



Of - 



iiio ihat niio hrartl her priy»>ici«ii H-iy ttj»t Hhe 
wan t'lo beauiifiil to din. ArH :i<( rnv JnY'rVor 
woul'l dwdl upon luT • . tl), 

" Ili>%v I,i/y,io would I. a M 

V.'' ' ' ' will (if 

V huinnn 

>••; it,y 
■ -< 



heart would • 
penned by i 
uf hia nativity. 

-T- • ■ 



11. d reoftll 
befuru hi' ■•• 

1 will transcribe ihc^ui here ; 

■ rj, kod want. 



Iff 
the bllM 



■•n *•<• sf rnlled 



Aw . 

Anl 

Plnk.H J') lui 



fiho. 
Wl, 
II - V 

Wit' 
An.t 



Hnl 
Thcr 
Ad.I 
Hal 
Now 
A* I'- 
ll V 
A II - 



»'n(r, 



•«hl. 



hcartii 
-l-.kc 



ThT 
An.l 
Fnr 1 
But 

A rr 



Fro! 
Up. 
Tog.. 



,1. 
f'T woe. 



tTc an end. 

• '■■'1 coaich, 
•e ; 
■< .it at work, 



iced 



T.. 

Uc) 

An. I ■ 

All ; 

HI. 

Tb. > 

That I MouiJ >v; 

Alajt Idlf.aiiU 



I he toal 

4 

llie dreiU, 

I 
live? 



" I taw a (low and wilcmn funeral train 

Appr.'r.. fi III.' \ . I...-.- . l.'.r. 1,^ ,,r.l .- :• mlv 

TIk'v 

11 « 

I tl. • .unci. 

Kail t 

1 Hi 
On I) . tini 

" ConsuniplJon'ii latest victim" wjomed, a* 



clothe the d- ^.s of gtiii his heart waa 

destined to V . r ycnr«. At the t-rro 

this brother enlisted in i v^ 
ihoHo who unden«tood tl 
j...'tin'iii. thai il 1 ' 

^■' '< -^ ttTtn expir 'i 

:i ti.r .;■■• tr;., ■, , r 
Navy t 

wrot" H ■ ' . 
This frifinl liiww a f>i*,lti.>ii, iu wliicli, to Bh<>w 

the uniiaturfil atal© of hi'' in'm<\ when he hfl 

home, he quoted from n •?r addressed 

to bim»elf when about !• n : 

" I iirek, 'mid more congeuial b«<.u6ii of utri?.-. 
To slian ttie Influence of my natal star." 



■II, havinfr 
;i of our <• 



1 by the latter to the 



w oH, M.G . \v 
J-kcretary of I ... . 
The following correspondccice resulted : 



3d, ]>>10. 

on the Pa- 
1 . ,\i (••• wilJt your re- 
nth ulL, for the dis* 



Pir: The I 
citic station 
quest of the 
charjre of Jt 1... ... .. .-. 

I am very rcsptotUillv. vom 
■\Vm. Uv 

Hon. Ji;liu8 Rooewrll,, Pitl^i-iJ, Umos. 



Mrs. RAtPH Lim 

Mat>am: I - 
which I hav 

the N":»'. V :• 



thAt I nv.'U ikc u < 
tion of tho kind 

ev •' ■ ' ' 

to. . .. 



^th, 1849. 



was am . 



A MOTHERS PKACK OFPT,HING. 



igencies of the service on the Pacific station are 
known lo be quite imperative at the preseut 
lime. You have done every thing which affec- 
tion for your brother, and regard for his wishes 
and feelings, could prompt you to do; and have 
done all in ihe best possible manner. I think 
you must now leave the matter in the hands of 
an overruling Providence. 

With much respect, your friend find obedient 
servant, Julius Roi:kwell. 

SiiKFFiEi.u, July I2th, 181!). 
Hon. J. Rockwell. Pitttlield, Mass. : 

Sm: Receive the thanks of my family and 
self, for your kind efforts in behalf of my brother. 
May heaven generously shower her choicest 
blessings upon yourself and those dear unto you, 
for this act, indicating the principle of expansive 
benevolence within your soul. I calmly acqui- 
esce in the dispensations of Providence, hoping 
yet to see what [ now believe, that all is wisely 
ordered. 

Mine lias been the pain of following in fancy, 
both in my waking and sleeping moments, that 
brother, afflicted vvilli privation, and oppressed 
v.'iiii wounded s risibilities, as he has journeyed 
and dwelt amid the perils of the deep or greater 
perils of war : a voluntary exile from his Berk- 
shire home and Uerkshire friends ; contemning 
tli8 selfishness of those who sacrifice at the altars 
of wealth or pleasure, yet seeming likely to be- 
come the victim of au undue devotion at the 
shrine of knowledge. 

Mine shall be tlie pleasure of telling him that 
Berkshire's wisest heads and noblest hearts have 
been engaged in his behalf; have done all in 
their power to procure for him the favor he de- 
sired. And this, as a cordial, 

" SUall inspirit and serene "' 

his heart when again subjected to the trial o' 
crushed hopes, and pcrliaps cause the bless- 
ing of him that was ready to perish to return 
upon his benefactors. 

Upon me, as an elder sister rest the care and 
solicitude once felt by an nft'ectionate mother, 
but which ceased with her heart's last pulse, ere 
this son, upon whose brow her faith had caused 
to be placed the seal of the everlasting covenant, 
committed his destiny to the foaming billows. 
I know that if he shall survive these adverse 
scenes, the school in which he has been placed 
will have imparted unto him lessons of wisdom, 
and given an energy to his character indispensa- 
ble to true greatness. May he yet return to 
bless what he left with the curse of a too gene- 
rous heart, and reward his benefactors by himself 
becoming a benefactor in his turn. 

Nature had endowed him with generosity 
above his fellows ; and in doing as he would be 
done unto, and judging others by self, he com- 
mitted errors that brought upon him those "dark 
ills" which he attributed to "Fate." May ex- 
perience correct these errors of his, and he yet be 
made to feel that fortune smiles. 

With high re?peet and unfeigned gratitude, I 
am your humble servant, L. J. Little. 

I will here copy a separate petition which I 
felt compelled to address to the head uf the Navy 
Department, and which was among the papers 
alluded to by Mr. Rockwell. 



SHEFFifiLD, Mass., June 23d, 1849. 
To the Secretary of the U. S. Navy : 

Honored Sir: My brotht-r JoLn was born at 
Sheffield, Mass., August, 1825. He belonged to 
a numerous and respected family, who were con- 
fined to the humble walks of life. Nature had 
endowed him with a superior genius and an 
aspiring heart. Ho early resolved on an educa- 
tion, though possessed of no pecuniary resources 
save his own hands and time. He long pursued 
his object with high hopes, and made praisewor- 
thy progress His talent and character gavo 
promise of good. But from pecuniary embarrass- 
ments, and luck of sympathy in those whom ho 
loved, (and who loved him with the same 
strength of affection, but, from lack of similar ex- 
perience, weie totally unqualified to put forth a 
sympathy adapted to his case,) his path became 
dubious or bio ked with insurmountable difficul- 
ties. He suddenly resolved on quitting hi.=j 
course, and plunging into the wilderness of the 
world, without a guide or fixed purpose, where 
he believed some path would eveutnally open 
bef )re him, in wliich to see his way more clearly. 
He left his fi lends without communicating to 
them his change of purpose, except by a letter 
dropped into the post-f>fSce at liis departure. 
He enlisted in his country's service, and sailed 
for the coast of Mexico, aboard the U. S. 
razee, Independence, nearly three years (-ince. 
That vessel is lately upon our coasts; several 
letters have been forwarded to his address, and 
his friends have waited a reply with intense 
anxiety until yesterday, when a letter was re- 
ceived from his hand, under date of May, 1849, 
mailed at San Francisco. Heisaboatd the U. b. 
ship Warren; says there is at Monterey a school - 
house in good condition, vacated in consequence 
of the teacher's le.iving for the gold regions; that 
several persons who have btcome acquainted 
with his qualifications, are desirous of olDtaiuing 
his services as teacher; that it is impossible for 
him to obtain a discbarge there; tljat he feels 
himself in a state of abject misery through being 
confined from a sphere in which he considers 
himself endowed to move, and that he desires his 
friends to ask for him a discharge from his pre- 
sent service. I am aware, sir, that it is not 
ivomcm's province to counsel in matters pertain- 
ing to her country's government. But ivoman 
may pro/y, not only to the Lord of tlio universe, 
but to the lords of this lower world, in behalf of 
those whose interests are dear unto herself. /, 
therefore, prefer my praj'er to those empowered 
to decide my brother's destiny, with reverence 
and submission, that he may be released from. 
those fetters in which fate seemed to have bound 
him, and be permitted to enter the path now 
open to his view, in which he may hope to real- 
ize liis laudable desires in the pursuit of his 
favorite object. 

With deference and respect, lam your humble 
servant, L. J. Little, 

Wife of Ralph Little. 

In behalf of my brother John E. Roys, ma- 
rine on board U. S. ship Warren, coast of 
California. 

Accident has placed in my hands a sci'ap-book 
of my brother's, from which I will copy some of 
his lines, written during the year of the corre- 
spondence above : 



A MoTHEUJi TKACE OFFKlilNG. 



67 



TO O. O. Cl'«Tl«l. IM*. 

OartiM I nn«1 know* Vre ronnol rnouirli 

Thrn.,,-li .,'.■. .Iirl. 1.,!),, .1. Willi »liJ rouifh; 



.1 prink., 
I Uisuki.) 



Lonir n'«hu. w!i»n on lh« ^nUln^f «c», 



)iop« that they 
•c«y. 



And wh»B on Mr»lc»n»'« pliiln. 

W„ .!. . ,1 I.. i,.'i.:i, A I ..l.-ii riiin. 
W 



iiitnic t«lng won, 

1 ■■.lirv «uii. 



•. M\>\ '/"". 



.rmt ab««nt frltoJ, 
. it 111 cnil, 

to fpend 

. w t?i r«n>. 



Tiia ti.'ikx. 1549. 



1 w»- 
I • 



iiiy 



•• Tn ilwvll wh^ro my klndrrd rnclrcic mr rc'Un'l , 

<^, ,. • - . . . .'. . 1'. . I .,.1 I.. I— r.. 1411(1; 

\s ■ •. 

Or "•• 



;v lan'l ; 

I liand; 
-py 

lood 

ful wood, 
' rai« ann*, 
: nboDC, 



\ j 'fvatd U> 

Tli« thought* Uiat to mortkls I would not rereal. 

w 1 ■my te«L 

■ I repeal. 

• \\ ;..L, i-i'rLil.U pain?' 



r.ply : 

<lcr atone, 
•trown, 
tin* and (trcain* 



• I I, ir ... •..• 

Bo lung aa (lie i 



>4, 



■ Yon ar •> rirh'." "he obMrrcd : " 8««k yoof country •&« 



\Vl, 
Ar. 



f ■ ■ in it OowT". 
iriT Ji in fancy** in' 



St, 
ire. 



vain 



inavcrrit : •• Tbcrr'* rra-on io lhl«. 

-ned what it pain— icU me now, what U 

I rcplkd. "th»t It easily told." 
I of my feeling now rendered me bold. 



TO OCOKOB WAKBO. i^f*. 
fihii.. •.!.■ .1. V • V. .r-. f v '1 I 

II Mher; 

All''. 

1 1 „ 

Althoufh our barkK o'er llfe'i roogfa ae* 

It.. 1. ,-•■ .1 1 V n, -f r; I ■ '• l"ile, 

* ••' ' .1 

>i -aX 

For I 

o: 

Aii.i :.i . 

To you, mu iuiiK a» iwtuu^rjf l-*t. 



And 

A 
'T» 

T 



III. 



.!,..iil<l meet, 
'ca. 



TBX SAMK. 

w at!.- r-- r.-!r! 



1 

To walk In cold ted drw at night. 

Call". « HIT llmlw and bonei to ache fiut ; 
And then without an appetite 

To rise at Are o'clock to hreakfaat. 



know It ;) 
.|o. 
I to do it 



•ne, 



TT>' • 

, 1 
\\> 

Ana; Li it tj.k'_- a!-' 

We W'tV n'l .!,-M, :i!..l 

I. 
I .! 

I'. 



I wUti, In York, at <io*lin(f'« Ubie. 

V : -it !■■ . .1 -■ • • iiiioklng niuffln*, 
■.■.II, able, 
'••, Joaey Dofflna. 



WILL T"r oo y^ Tn* oo»J»-Wllt»». IMC 



Wni you (to t 

A« t»ir •.-:p- 
\V ■. 



'I arU«. 



. nar, 



r'f^aln, 

ratar 

• <puro. 



58 



A mother's peace offering. 



Shall we go to the gold-mines ? What say you, my friends ? 
We are ready to use our best means for best ends. 
Shall we go to the mines? It is vain to conceal 
The heart-burning longing for gold that we feel. 
It only remains to decide which is best, 
Our own honor, or wealth? Be it plainly exprest! 
There is no way, at present, the one we can gain, 
And still let the other unblemished remain. 

Shall we go to the gold-mines ? "We're long used to roam, 
But still we have friends and relations at home. 
Shall we leave them forever, when honor is sold, 
And we have in exchange a few ounces of gold ? 
Or shall we, eluding each eye on the strand, 
At midnight return to our own native land. 
And, crouching like criminals, creep to the door 
That never admitted dishonor before? 

We will go to the gold-mines ! We have but to serve 
A few paltry months more, and we never will swerve 
From our promise ! Our honor shall never be sold 
Though we were to receive for it mountains of gold ! 
When our term shall expire, and with faces of men 
We can meet friends or foes, (we shall fear nothing then.) 
We will go to the mines, or wherever we will ; 
And with consciences clear, all our bags we can fill. 

But if haply by that time all digging is staid. 

And a " stopper" by Government on it is laid. 

We yet have a hope that for what we have done 

In the strife when the gold-mines from strangers were 

won, 
Our friends won't desert us, although we shall come 
With pockets quite empty, at last, to our home ; 
And that leaving no blemish or spot on our name, 
We shall go to the " gold-mines" of Honor and Fame. 

Thus was there au opening for me to do for 
myself and son and the "brother bom for adver- 
sity," in a twofold sense, without hired help by 
dispensing with visitors. For, when my brother 
told me that the ladies of the new settlement 
vv^ere promising him that they would come to 
visit me as .soon as their duties at home should 
allow, lest I get lonely, and leave ; I replied that 
I should stay longer if they did not come. This 
was not because I did not love society, or had 
not a proper regard for my fellows. But T knew 
the measure of my strength, and because I would 
livefor my ciiild's sake, I would not attempt if 
avoidable to go beyond it. However, our sum- 
mer rambles brought us in contact, and my iater- 
est in the children being discovered, I was so- 
licited to engage to teach a school for the win- 
ter. To this I cheerfully consented, in case 
health permitted. A school- meeting was had 
and arrangements made for clearing the ground 
and erecting a school-liouse. The first team that 
went to Grand Rapids after this meeting brought 
a stove, designed for the school-house, for which 
twelve dollars were paid. This, for lack of shel- 
ter, was placed by the wayside in front of my 
brother's house. I felt an ambition for laying 
the corner-stone in the department of Pritiiary 
School education in this new town of a wilder- 
ness yet to blossom as the rose. But the chills 
of autumn brought on an attack of lung-fever to 
my boy, followed by a hacking cough, and I 
knew I must not think of caring for him, and for 
a school. So the business of preparing a house 
was delayed till another year. My brother, the 
latter part of November, contracted for chopping 
by those whose femily were to occupy his house, 
and board him. My prematurely fatherless boy 
looked on silently while the contract was written 
out and signed. Then he retired behind the bed- 
curtains, and on my looking: in upon him, I found 
him silently weopiuir at the^thoughts of his home 
being agniu broken up. We returned to Grand 
Eapids the last day of November, 1855, intending 
to spend a few weeks, and then go to St. Joseph's 



county to see friends who had been kindly so- 
liciting us through the summer to visit them. 
But an attack of chill-fever in my own person 
prevented. I was upon a sick-bed, in a com- 
fortable log-house, five miles to the south of 
Grand Rapids, on the plankroad to Kalamazoo, 
when the papers from my husband's hand last 
copied reached me. I had concluded to return 
East as soon as strength should allow. The first 
time I felt able to go out, I rode to the city and 
paid my stage-fare, leaving orders for the stage 
to call for me. And on Monday, 11 A.M., Janu- 
ary 21st, 1856, at the hour when Mr. Little 
closed his eyes to open them no more upon tt;e 
scenes of time, his repudiated wife and child 
turned their faces homeward from their western 
tour. JSText morning at six we were at my brother's 
in Detroit. My brother told me he had waited 
to see me before he should reply to Mr. Little's 
letter to him.self — said he should say to Mr. 
Little that he was persuaded Charlie must have 
more exercise in ihe open air than his business 
would give him. The Thursday following, a let- 
ter came to Charlie from Anna, saying that his 
father was dead. That when he was dying, she 
asked him if he had any word for Charlie. Ho 
said : " Tell Charlie I wish for the blessing of God 
upon him." She asked, "Any thing moreV" 
and he answered: "That is all." Charlie had, 
after receiving his father's letter, and while wait- 
ing for me to recover, printed a little daily, till 
he had made an epistle for his father. He was 
intending to inclose it with his Uncle James' re- 
ply. As soon as he liad word of his father's 
death, he inquired with weeping: "Mother, do 
you think pa knows now that I have v/ritten 
him a letter?" 

Early in spring I returned to Sheffield to look 
after the duties that remained for me. I was 
without money, the rent for my meadow remain- 
ing unpaid, and the renter having left the place. 
I could sell the meadow for enough present pay 
to liquidate my debts; remainder to be paid 
eight, nine and ten years from date of notes given 
on mortgage deed; giving me an annual income 
of between seventy and eighty dollars, after de- 
ducting taxes. This, as I supposed all under- 
stood, was the provision for my own personal 
support. After thus disposing of this matter, I 
next waited to see how Charlie's support was to 
come. I looked week after week in the county 
papers to see when a notice should appear call- 
ing the attention of those interested in the estate 
of Mr. Little. Nothing appearing, I invited Mr. 
Ira Curtiss to wait on Lucius, the eldest son, and 
inquire of him concerning Charlie's portion of his 
father's possessions. He was informed that there 
was nothing for Charlie that he knew of. His 
father's affairs were all settled, and his Hither 
died possessed of nothing. 

I had learned, while anxious to knoiv duty 
that I might do it, not to wear myself out with 
anxious thought, which, instead of adding to life 
or its comforts, detracts from each. There was a 
testament in my hands containing a writing in 
which I had a personal interest. " Thy Maker 
is thy husband," and " Leave thy fatherless child- 
ren with me; I will preserve them alive," were 
as good currency with me as any paper extant. 
Not that I looked for miraculous supplies, while 
I folded my hands; but I looked that by daily 
reaching to Him my hand in faith, and following 



A MOTUKR8 PEACE OFFERING. 



59 



Uie indiaitions of hui providence, be eliouKl lend 
lue in ft way that I know nut, oven in Uii» way 



the watofH rr<'i 
fouiiUiin lit I 



llm c<.,.Hii'/ ami n"\< r-<-. (ihitu 



i icil, Liiii iUa 
Miuch OS niv 



■.■4 lu li.i» ru:.il ili.-,;;i> I. wi.i .'( 
our writ like n irreat rock 



lliO 

in a 



tl 


. inteu- 


'■ ■ ■ . 


Wtl fX- 


1, 


; 1 liivso po8- 
• _' the B>i!k- 


u: 




ri. 


■ 1 111 


I 


• 'ir ex- 


It'.. 


. . ' . ,w!k.'you 


Woujij 

Oi,. , 

!•: 

Ol i:ii) iiry i.";.' 

i-t as lullows: 


. irom xia sooner lu reply.'' 

7, 't.ntf^'5: " Wc hnvn uerer 

' .>m Mr. 

r letters 

■mil.-- i.i- (.>ji'i;i:ii>ii>i. iiio latest 



Chicago, Feb. 6tb, 1858. 
Dkar Sib: Too desire us to write you our 

conclusion in regard to the matter of the Bulkley 
cstnt.'. Yoti will r«c<ilk'ct that by the provision" 



tllHlj Culiriiiliu-U Itii- tiUili: 
While ih'""' wlio wre 't 



to 



A -• n^v .'1 

OTer-exertioi 

summer of 1 , , 

power, and ot power to l;iix>r or v 

to an occa.><ioiinl ainkinp, whi'^li 1 

indii ate a tendency to 

Minko an effort, by eoin. -, 

with il- ■ ' "I ::... i'<iy, 

who y : r more than 

the moi.i ;. \ : , ■ ■^- it. 

Hy ridinp over the lulls aii>l atiionj? iho vsUeys 

of New-Kiiplnmi. with my own private convi-v 

ance, avoidiuir conversation, by Rtoppiiip at holeLi 

to rot when weary, I, in a f<'W wet- k«. cnj^-vi^d a 

f a new hohl on life. But : uf 

soon told me that health v. .u 



t' : ■ . . - 

tul'....„j. 

S" • ir n?t \\\r> recortls were (v>nfv>rr'"d it did not 
t' -hare of 

t lion of 

K. ' ■ - 

h 



■would, in iiii providence open a way for my 
escape from a winter of death, thmnc-h one or 
another of the.so channels, brain-t. iit 

me low. I was alone with mv ^v 



.t 



titl>d to nil :..) 

hiil.itio'' V' r. rs. 

He^n ' ' llio coiispirttcy a^-iuust 

ilrd. i. r remain 

\ I ry t!ui/ jours, 

SPArJX)BU k JOXKB. 

J. A. Rots, Esq. 

ifv br >tl.i r, th^ fir^t yoar after my husband's 
<! ise a little homo, 

V. ivo without paying 

rout, ;i.4 I.. . .ii .;i' l!.c li;:ie a.1 we chose. He 
named a pi.i<o n<ar tlie Roys' Houioste.vl. at the 
foot of the TiKiinic range of moi, 
border our town on the west. 1 
mf>. ii" I 'kii,<\v of any other I w< ... . ,. . 
n . ,1. He wished me to make my.- 

ci>' ioinff what I felt able to do, a: 

Io«k t» tiim for money to K-d.-uice my acconnt.s oii 
thij rt>tnm of nflcb season for snnunl sottli^nn-nf 



altar w s 

cup, ail : ; '"- 
aent to l>i<.«6 uinl lu iieal. 1 saw tuy uwn vAt^e 
clearly. I had, in the person of my ehil '. a wise 

acrraiit. H<' km.' " r to I* 

ready to tise the <» — to 

speak, to mov '-nt 

from me. T r- 

stand why 1 'J 

come into the iiouae to do a i "^ 

oalleil them at my r*^r'i'^<>t. I, 

because he had ■ •*. 

Cold, wet towels a "h 

•..i 

•L 
ic «, where lie took 
I was, a^ iny own 

i'lti'iiiiv:. 1 •' -ioi.t' ill tho hou.<<e through the 
iiii'lif .■iii.i u.viral hours at n timp Lbroi:i.'b tho 

: - ...... ,,,,^ 



60 



A mother's peace offering. 



idea. But how shall I describe to those who, 
looking urion the outward appearance, thouglit 
uie very lonely ou thnt sick-bed, the true state 
of the case! Let them imagine, if they can, one 
lying in a room delightfully illuminated, who 
feels that not a muscle may be tasked as an inlet 
to the senses, who for once opens her eyes and 
looks iipon a congregation of pure and spotless 
beings, whose loving countenances, beaming 
with delight, are all turned toward her as they 
sit iu an attitude bespeaking that they are in 
attendance exclusively on her account, under- 
derstanding that breatlaless silence is her present 
element; who sees ainoug this congregation 
sainted parents and sisters, husband and child, 
pastor and Christian brethren, and having glanced 
a look that shows the fact, shuts the eyes, and 
enjoys ah the comfort such a view imparts, while 
she lits motionless as inanimate clay. Then, as 
the hours pass, imagine this host breathing, not 
into the ear, but into the heart, the most pre- 
cious tratlis contained in the Scriptures ; 
and strains of music, sweet and sootlhng, not 
heard but felt. And then giving; blest assur- 
ances of a glorious future ; yea, a future of end- 
less glory. And not only this, but an assurance 
that her earth- work is not yet finished ; that she 
shall live to act an important part in the drama 
in which G-od unfolds his designs to the children 
of men. Let them imagine this and they have 
a view, as near as I can picture, of tlie real com- 
forts I enjoyed in that lonely, disordered, and 
widowed home, where help seemtd far, and death 
nigh. As soon as returning health enabled me 
to sit up, I felt that I must immediately leave the 
scene of my domestic cares. I had suffered a 
burning sensation about the vocal organs, while 
my fever lasted, and on arising from my bed 
could only speak in a whispfr. I repaired to a 
brother's, feehng that a few days would strength- 
en nie so as to return to duty. M}'' l>rother was 
one morning about leaving for the village, and I 
was giving him instrucuons to do a few errands 
for me. This was after my voice became re- 
stored. While speaking, my tongue refused to 
articulate distinctly, and I knew at once that 
palsy was the cause. I felt no oppression except 
in the center of my forehead, and distinctly per- 
ceived tliat the elFurt to think intensely while in- 
structing my Ijrotber concerning my errands, had 
been the exciting cause. I immediately retreat- 
ed, dismissed care and thought as much as possi- 
ble, and felt a relief ]i it on taking hohl of a 
vessel to raise water to my mouth, I discovered 
that my right arm had been deprived of a portion 
of its power. Yer, not till attempting to go up 
a flight of stairs did I know that this diminution 
of power ran throughout the right side. I could 
no(. plac=^ my right foot first and raise myself, but 
could advance by continuing to raise tlie left foot 
first. I liad no medical advice. I desired none. 
1 could read my case clearly. The Inbor of ex- 
plaining it to another I could not safely attempt. 
1 could, after an hour's silence, speak a few 
words, and then felt thdt the nervous energy of 
the vocal organs was so nearly used that I might 
not proceed, lest total and confirmed prostration 
siiould result. My mother had a brother who 
early in his married life had palsy, depriving him 
of tlie use of his right arm, though he lived to 
rear a family. Slie had a sister (still living) 
whose riglit arm has been paralyzed twenty-two 



years. I had had from my mother a detailed 
account of her brother's case. He was at first 
no more aft'ected than myself A physician w^as 
employed, who bled him a day or two after his 
attack. From the hour he was bled, the strength 
of his partially paralyzed arm withered. After 
it was completely prostrated, a voyage to the sea 
was resorted to without any avail. I saw at a 
glance that the only chance for me to escape 
confirmed paralysis lay in seeking a warmer and 
yet a bracing air, and in total exemption from 
care. I knew the attempt would be attended 
with difficulties, and with an expense which I 
could not have thought of incurring for any other 
object than to save life. I had a home, with 
stores for the winter, and mj'' merchant trusted 
me till my interest in April enabled me to 
liquidate my indebtedness to him. All that I 
possessed beyond this consisted of notes from 
D. K. Savage, of Sheffield, one of four hundred 
dollars, to be paid April fifteenth, 18C4; one of 
five hundred dollrir.s, to Vie paid April fifteenth, 
1865 ; and another of five hundred dollars, to be 
paid AprU fifteenth, 18G6. These notes being 
secured by a mortgage deed of a tract of good 
meadow, I presume some one might be found 
who would, in obedience to the command, 
"From him that would borrow of thee, turn not 
away," loan me the amount needed to pay my 
way to a care, if so be a cure might be obtained, 
and take tliis security. A brother, who had 
ever been able to assist me to money when need- 
ed, told me he then found it very difficult to 
raise money. I felt that I must leave home as 
soon as possible, and on Saturday after my 
paralytic attack named the next Wednesday as a 
day on which to set out. I then beg;^n to take 
thought respecting the packing of a trunk, which 
I intended asking a sister to do for me, but as 
sooa as the effort to care in that direction com- 
menced, I felt a return of the symptoms of pros- 
tration. I saw that I could not endure the ex- 
citement of making ready, or of a parting scene 
with my boy or lirctliren and sister, or of endea- 
voring to convince those whose silence told me 
their doubts, that 1 could go forward unattend- 
ed. I therefore asked my elder brother to let 
my boy take me to the village on Monday after- 
noon preceding the Wednesday I had fixed upon 
to leave. He con.sented, and while my boy was 
making ready the team, I stepped into my own 
house, which I had left as soon as I was able to 
be off the bed two hours at a time, and in twen- 
ty-five minutes from the time I entered it I left 
with a parcel in hand, put up in a newspaper, de- 
signing in my own mind, if Providence permit- 
ted, to go a sea-voyage to Florida. My brother 
said he would be in the village the next day and 
take me home if I chose. I found, as I antici- 
pated, that the ride improved my strength, and 
on Tuesday morning, I leisurelj^ put on a dress, 
having worn nothing but a wrapper since sick, 
and at two in the afternoon took the cars for 
Hudson, N. Y. The two hours' ride gave me an 
exercise in kind and amount such as I could en- 
dure and such as I needed. I then took a night- 
boat down the river, the motion of which, as well 
as that of the cars, tended to distribute llie fluids 
and nervous energies eqtially through the system. 
My merchant loaned me ten dollars as I left 
Sheffield. I left a line for my friends, telling 
them I felt that duty demanded the course I pur- 



A MOTHEKS PEACE OFKEKING. 



Gl 



nucfi Biid that they ehould Iimt from m*» d»ilr. 
I Bloppod Willi n brother in 
York, who hmJ. a tew dnvH 

CO- ' ' . - ■ - 



' hv hin Ih)'..'* in tJ•.,^f«^|,^ ^f,r) (wrrW* n« f-rrc- 



Iv :.. . 

Ill ■, or wiilk, OS best con> 

bi-i ; liculth. 

1 i'l a luA i;a_i» litVDtfd uiV-oll to ^l 
how to alleriiAto n-Mt aid t-xcfiNxv m> ii-^ 
C'.f - ■ • 



boioved ot ii 

Johii Brown • 

ii>||j tor allciu|A:i K l< 
hu bl'llL'ViHj, III' u ( 



pa .... : -., L.., 

b< httl wait oil 

li ; Ihi-y hlittU 

ruu Mttd hut bt» wetiry , llit-y tiiitnl walk, and tiot 
fttint." Bit OD attrnipiintr u> f-M for borrowed 
muiit^y, that I m'\u' -«" ho exuci 

Ij ikdaptt'd to my ' ii that tioi ■ 

to ■.■■' • ' -'■■■■ >■' i me. I I II. i 

n- -^ jurct.H liiiii 

tl.' ■■ , \vn^ BO liard 

to bo rn!<id 111 Siiilbeld ns then. t»l:tflield, too, 
was tlio plin;e whtre niy hu*b«iid had astoiiichtd 
jM-uple n ffw years before tiy phiciii^ in iho 
stores a notice cautioning the pubhc not to iiust 
ar;- ' - -ouiii, and the public under- 

»t 'I minn ine. Tlioiinh I JiJ 

d( . :i lie d'cds of my mortid hu« 

band, 1 hnct no mi^givm^'H in reltiiion to the pro- 
videntiul euro and goodncM of my Maker. I 
knew I ah )uld i ot faint and die for lack of sup- 
pliea, iinlfss thai wer« a errfaier good than to 
pii ' " i my t'oy to come 

t" I him tiie trunk I 

I waa not unused to slraito in which I could 
find no guide other than an TJoceen One. My 
wiilka in the cty had led me to dL-cover a dady 
I'uion I'rayer-Mcctiog. Here I was permitted 
to hand in a not*, over the signature, "A 
Stranger," a^kinir unittd praytra in my behalf 
that i; ' :r ' - JKt. I undePHlood 

that it lidftice trom 0<>d 

U.S fnni, u.i I continued 

t" I Ihj able to 

c<ji . i and vicini- 

ty,) ui.d ui ihu oaii.o iHiiv Ui u»k !\jr rtferencea, 
that I might, if able, do a little in the way of 
teflchiiifr or c.iring for young children, to ei.ablc 
me to «u»y near the «©a. W'h lo I wa.^ thus per- 
pkxtd, and a.«kit;g for a riphi war " •■ " •' 
waa forced upon my mind, that t 
come when G«.d would have mo i> 
for justice in behalf of my chdd. I beiiuved liiat, 
though a cloud rented upon SbeflBcId too dense 
for lifcht lo pentrtrntp, in reference to our case, 
the truths might now be tsken into a light 

where, .'•• ' ' ! ■ ' • • upon, they 

should I J. 

The t _ ' onservator" 

was now citHr lo my own mind, and I (elt it my 
duty t-J remonatrute to it« workings, inB.smuch ns 
it bad neiiler been legwUy nppomted, nor legal 
in ilfl trai.sactiona I knew tlut the Uwful hus- 
band of mystl', a! ' ' " . ' r . :" : 
child, at the tirne 

in ShtfTicld to hi.s l. . . .. , - ... t...;. .w..-i,. 
thounanda of dollars, oiler paymg ail hi.f dur(<, 
(including his wife's legal cUim?,) independent 
of his legacy at Chicago, and ho had then no 
minor child but my boy. I knew that he had, 



WIKC7 I tl 

diie»«, B! ■; 

He hild ulli^rU al uh Mgu W Ueli ihv law rr<. ;iriH 

a "guanlian" f-.r th» )nttierl»-". H'lt !.■• ' nd 



an uuu 

lIlHl hlH , A- 

aa was po».>iiblo without i - ■ rime. 

I knew, better than an> -. the 

dai ger that his anxiety bOuut mc : 
hia own health; for «hen I leU him. 1 

been too weak to allow ' r 

cai.dk--lig-,t, HJnce an ill i. 

arihii g Ifoni a utone-br. , , I i 

mv dtip Wjlicitude, 1 calUd lo mind ■ 
"iH'ave thy tutherleH;! chihlun wii ,i 

preserve ibem alive," and to mnko the pfotntcu 
more sure to me, bj an increase of fa th. I took 
my requett, through a written note, to tl'O 
Union I'rnyer-.Meeiing. A lett<^-r told me tial 

he had > -oned, and his ! h 

swollen. <• acciderii of p<^ 

being n the fuel. Bat n , . h 

revetted to me lact that fitraiigerR ^aa (iirrted 
with me touching the iring I had airked of t>od, 
and my btait rested upon his promise. I suc- 
ceeded in geitnir my boy and irut.k lo the city 
the first of ill' ^ ! '>ii hii arri> . ''o 

had had \t<^ • rtrd by a ~t 

his stomajh, :. ... - . ;.-a, but wa-i .- ;,e 

animal an not to be ferioiit>ly injinert. Ho 
brought with him the tilver I took with me lo 
my husband's home, at the time of my marnige. 
By pawning iliis, I was enabltd to meet every 
exigence, until a way wa-i opemd fop mo lo re- 
deem my sdvtr find pro.Ki.i-mo my i iiri < v. In 

I r... ,. ...,,1 linip I llBO 1 • ■ I • • • .■ 

.-ODs ignuraiii < 

•Mill law ami j .- ;•» 

reiaituu to my duty to my cluid. My ca es and 
perpkxiiiea whi!f> wnim •/ ar <! writ't.g were a 
check to the >■ Hud in ad* 

diiioii to till' :ii one com- 

pel ing a bu> m r I. I l not 

plained for such an o%' i.{x»n 

mo the symptoms of im : , .a lite 

weakened members of my noay. Anout this 
lime I noticed "Swedish Movement Cure fjr 
Taralysis" upon the door of an ofRoe in tlie C<>o- 
[K-r riiion. I resorted to ihis cure, and found a 



It. iti.- -v.'tem, w»» liad, I mai: 
uiii i iho 1h»i <»f February, l 
preach of tlio s^-a-'on which ever Ui- 
whtD leeble, and a lady wnc was 



62 



A mother's peace offering. 



■winter in Florida writing me that she had taken 
with her mouey which should be at my com- 
mand oa arriving there, at the same time giving 
nie au order for money to pay my pasjaere, I left 
on the last diy of February, 1860, m ihe stfam- 
er Stiir of the South, and arrived in Savannah, 
Ga., on Saturday the 3d March. Was dataiued 
herw till Wednesday following, when I took the 
St. Mary's, and hrrivfed in J^icksonville, Florida, 
next day. 

The sea-sickness I suii'ered wasted my strength 
and flesh rapidly, so that a friend fiom the 
North, on finst meeting me, told the lady who 
aided me to take the voyage, she did not think I 
would live a week. But I wag already feeling 
that this wassb of animal which had been 
touched by palsy, was as necessary as is the fall 
of verdure, touched by autumn frosts, to a re- 
turn of the springs of life ; and I felt that such a 
waste, or reduction, could not have been effected 
in njy case through any other means than by 
sea-sickness, without exiiDguishint; life's flame. 
My ftrength gradually though slov/ly increased 
during my stay through March and a part of 
April, those months in which I had so often found 
my i-trtngth wasting at the Nnrth. Then the 
heat became so great that I dare not remain 
longer, as I could not take the exercise necessa- 
ry to promote circulation, without exciting: fever. 
I concluded to take a sail-vessel on my return 
pas-sage, thinking I could now endure a stronjier 
potior of the sea-S'ckness remedy. And I did en- 
dure it. But, happily for me, though greatly to 
the annoyance of the strong, our neat little 
echooner (iTulia Smitb, Capt. Orlando, of Cape 
Cod) was li'jd, by its anchor, to the bed of tne 
Delaware, at Breakwater Harbor, from Saturday, 
28th April, to Friday, May 4th. A few days of 
convalescence being thus granted me, I was pre- 
pared on ai rival at Philadelphia, (Sunday, 6!.h 
May,) to go next day by railroad to New- York, 
where I stopped till June, the better to recruit 
exhausted nature, and to wa't till the chills of 
spring h«d pas-ed from Berkshire's hills and 
plains. I then re urned to the town fiom which 
I had glided so imperceptibly away the Novem- 
ber pr.;vious, that my village friends, many of 
them, had not found me among the missing, or 
upon the list of invalids. I ha'i two or three 
dollars in hand, and was now in the town where 
I had tried in vain to borrow mouey, and in a 
state of health which forbade a pressing care. I 
pcissed from the cars to the hotel, and inquired 
of M^ Miller, the la,ndlord, if he would boaid me 
a few raonlha on trust, telling him the condition 
of my finances. He consented, and I took up 
with him my home. Yes, my home. I have a 
Iwrne. I have always had a home. I expect to 
always have a home. I thank God for that sys- 
tem of legal civilization which secures to mo an 
everlasting home on earth; and f^r that Christ- 
ian system which secures to me an everlssling 
home when earth shall be dissolved. 

The idea of the " Conservator" may now be 
clearly seen. To my mind it reads thus: "Go 
to the homes of your benevolent brethren, and 
tell them that you are too poor and too lueak to 
have a home of your own, and they mwit take 
you in." 

I have never indorsed this idea I shall never 
indorse it while of my present mind. Whether 
that mind be sane or insane, let competent judges 



decide. Perhaps the "Conservator" in this 
work was doing to others as it would that others 
should do unto it. 1 should not be acting in 
obedience to the golden rule, were I to follow 
such a fashion. My father and mother ai'e passed 
away. My brethren are my neighbors. God 
bids me withdraw my foot fr-om my neighbor's 
house, lest he be weary of me, and so hate me. 
My father and mother were among the married 
pairs who, though unlike, moved in harmony be- 
fore the family band ; and as a result, they pre- 
sented to the world the good and pleasant sight 
of brethren and sisters dwelling together in com- 
parative unity. /, tlie elder, mother sister, shall 
not voluntarily do that which God instructs me 
tends to stir up their hatred towards me. For 
however benevolent the impulses and slow the 
hatred of the mor'e genid, the same elements 
enter into the composition of every human heart. 
Therefor 3 the universal law of Scripture is appli- 
cable and profitable unto all. But how can I 
withdraw my foot from a neighbor's house, if I 
have not a home of my own ? And how can I 
have a home of my own, if I have not strength 
or money ? 

Shall I go into the public ways, and pray God 
to send the manna from heaven to feed me? No, 
for the days of miracles are passed. Shall I go 
out without gold, or silver, or notes on paper, to 
offer in exchange for the supplies necessary to 
sustain Ufe ? No, for that would be departing 
from the blessings of civilization. I shall avail 
mj'solfof these blessings, and have a home, a 
lawful home ; the best home God empowers me 
to select, whether that home be with the rich or 
the poor ; in city or in country ; on land Or on sea ; 
a hired home, or a possessed home ; a home in 
a corner of the house-top or in a wide house. 
If I have a legally appointed conservator, guar- 
dian, or master, I have to consult his instructions, 
and obey them in the Lord. But if I am a 
widowed mother, without such protection, I un- 
derstand that I am head of a house, and am con- 
cerned in the truth, "he that neglects to provide 
for his own, and especially those of his own 
house, hath denied the faith, and is woi'se than 
an infidel." At the time I consented to adopt my 
brother's ^jroposal, after my husband's decease, 
and accept his proffered gift, I indulged hopes 
that I might be able, with Charlie's labor and my 
own, to live upon my income, and only feel 
obliged to my brother for gratuitous rent ; but 
we both suffered loss through over-estimating our 
strength ; and when my boy's father had been 
four years dead, the brother whom ho addressed, 
as his last worldly act of which I have any ac- 
count, had furnished me in money (as a gift from 
his own earnings) the full amount agreed upon 
by my husband. Had I felt less pressed by a 
sense of obligation, a less sum would (I doubted 
not) have supplied me. When I was compelled 
to relinquish this home, I felt sad at the thoughts 
of my brother's disappointment, and as soon as I 
had looked at my affairs with my own eyes, I 
advertised my brethren that I should act inde- 
pendent of their advice ; that instead of trying 
to board at half pay, quarter pay, or no pay, I 
should seek the necessaries of life, and pay the 
market pi'ice. I could then only write the 
" what" without giving the " why." As I re- 
viewed the " Conservator's" work, I saw that one 
dollar a week each was the offer for board. 



A MOTIIEHS PEACE OFFERING. 



63 



Thw, nf •w'rt. '.vai no mor** thnn hslf ]^v. At I 

th- 

d>i 

W: 

I ]• 

to r 

Bii'i I > try thf ■ I 

of:; ivvBy from : 

•«•' ii. 

1 ' :i. I uTutc mv cldevt brother, 

(t!. ■ ■ " ' 

iu > 

pi- 
lar 

br..l 

streii^lli, (Hiy liiiu iur inj w.>ik \U..il il \^uo 

wortli. To this h«« c-in^nut*"!. wi\ <'harlio loll 

for '• . • : : 

So 



iwkinp fr>r i« nt th" hnnds of dtJl law ; and re- 
i' furo I should Imto thocity. 



I. I ..... t I ., .1 i\. 



Tu ihi town of BhoOlcld, Berkshire Ca, Ifaat., 

t r ' ■' - projK-r authuritiM for acting iu 
I loor. 



I lie a^itiiu buiidiu^ ; liu 
-A V.'.nt he oo'iM look 



niui 

SniiUi, iti liif 
cy»^ dnvii'v' ^'•'■ 
at • 
wl. 

aii<' . i.iiM 

ri' 1 tho 

city. . ..vcd no 

poorer :: s, and wo may hope 

riclirr i-; ...st. I had tho eatia- 

fac voluntarily, that whiit 

ho \ WHS tliiso lectures 

au i . Rev. Mr. i^mitli pro- 

p"- tho upp.>r pari of tin- 

city ■■■•'■■ "•«. ami .stitcd tliat 

if t ion then pre.senl 

W" would 1)0 rnisod 

at ' .. <iu leavin)^ the nicot- 

ine, iiirs to pivc any where 

to biiil'l .'. i-hnrth. .■• \\'U'.d pivo it there. 

Wiien I w;«.H about to return from the city to 

Sh-'''- ' ■•• ' ■ • •• •'• ' '■■'•■;y wa^ 

noi i(j tho 

Fui , as n 

Wi: r and ■ i^tiru^tinn womnn, that I 

mi.^ . 1 iu tho appropriate duties of my 

eplierc. 

Having become oetab!i5hed in my home at 
this hotel, I sent a line to luy .son. .-vikinp him to 
call and .see nie; and also uoiiliod my fr;ciids 
that I was able to receive a short cal I'roni one 
or two indiviihial.s d.iily. I jd.«<> t.x)k daily walk/" 
of from one to two miles. I tlnu h.'id a ro<>iii to 
which to retire and shut out domestic care, in- 
flate the Innirs. apply cold .«»f>ft. w.-jt^r to the more 

Opp: ! 

sk.'' ■ , . 

he : om h\a el . 

w«'i ' I't. 1st for I 

dollars l)v.>*i'ii' III- l-vKifd. This waa a pru\iMoii 
for tlio sinmior if h- ultli oniitiniifl. Hnt Thariii' 
haci : ■ \mng 

lai 1 II. In 

ca.-<o ..; . I .. .i.'i .Ml ..:,■■ ii.ui lo my- 

self, or 1 ■ him a.s I h.id formerly don,'. 

How tt.' i. like the wise ant, pref>aro 

for such au exigence? 1 addn'.ssed a lino, be- 
fore leaving Now- York, to his eldest half-brother, 
inquiring if I could receive tho money his failur 
agrev'd to p;»y mo for Charlie's sup|virt, williu'it 



iiilruducoL, oouijilcU-iy i 

upon tho suljjoet of a j 1 

wife and hor otlsprinp. 11. it U," : ■* 

frenzy ha.H liocn to destroy the h' 
second wife; caus*^- filial diso.-ise of i 
their lirsl-bom ; a di.«iiil;oritauco 
lirethrcii of a minor «>n, tlioir onl; . vc 

child: and the brin};inp down to the grave with 
sorrow of liis own ve:ii rnble !;end. 

Tho U! • . 

provider i 

tl-o 

th. 

1'^'^ • , ■■■■■•^ 

W- .vity. 

I ' at the time 1ms arrived wliea the 

truUi of her opinion, as above given, can be 
shown in open court, she plai^e.Q her son at the 

door of .-^ " I 

guardian 

to ov»^m..-- .1 

voyi'd to his 

.'-Sheffield, as i 

seventh portion ol said real csiJite, loticiiiior with 

tlio use of said ]>ortion since the dcvo:isc of his 

and their father in January of 1.^56. 

Respectfully submitted, 

LAt:R\ J. LiTTLK, 

Widow of lialpb Little. 
SilEFFiELP, June ISih, 1860. 

After preparing to take this la-t ^ti^p. T n'ff^r 
tained that my eldest brother '■• 
the board of seW^tmen. which • 
for I know it is h.ir 1 
looked upon i».-< " a - 

ovil before i;. 

He had stood l>y i 
. "lied ov«r nio, next in 
wiiu wadouce " a man of sorrow.s, i.ii.i i 

with grief H" Im" dono hi^ full j.r. 
ward usi!.. i 

am now ; 

to mako 1 .- ■ 
riTct'ticn ot 

tho i"'!!.!'' w! . • I 

are broken. Tiiori'rore, 1 ^i with my 

work. So far as human • • nt is con- 

cemo<l, I stand alone, il >o wa.s to 

arrange tiie writings in i. , liarmg a 



6i 



A MOTHER S PEACE OFFERING. 



bearing upon the case, according to their dates, 
and then write out the facts to which I could tes- 
tify before any tribunal empowered to try and de- 
cide my suit, so that I may be ready to give an 
answer to'auy who shall ask, What are the proofs 
in the case? About the time I was entering 
upon the work of examining manuscripts, I re- 
ceived yours, containing tlie inquiry which I 
quoted at the beginning of this, my chronic 
epistle. I now seem: d to have found an answer 
to the inquiry which I had for many months been 
carrying daily to C4od, namely : " What wilt thou 
have me to do?" 

I could more easily give my reasons for my 
opinion of slavery, and the proofs I could ad- 
duce to substantiate my opinion of duty toward 
my child, in a compound form, than in any other, 
inasmuch as the Creaior had given them to me 
in that form. Having sought to unfold some of 
the darker passages of my hidden life, by copy- 
ing from original records, and adding soiueudtes 
by the way, 1 will proceed, by p;ractical applica- 
tion, to endeavor to give you to see slavery with 
my eyes, and to persuade j^ou that 1 am not de- 
ceived in my present view. In rey private jour- 
nal I find the following: 

August \1th, 1834. — This afterncon, at Mr. 
Rogers's. Interested in reading anti-slavery pub- 
lications. Am convinced that I, and most others 
in these Northern States, have had but little light 
on the subject of slavery, and but a faint idea of 
its horrors and its sins, as existing in ihe Southern 
States of our celebrated Union ; or of the undue 
prejudices amongst us all, in relation to persons 
of color. 

From the following letter, may be derived an 
inference of my own opinion, one year later than 
the above date. 

New-Marlborough, July 13lh, 1835. 
Mt Dear Miss Rots : I received your com- 

municaiion by the hand of S , and was 

highly gratified with tlie sentiments of friend- 
ship and respect which it contains. It was no 
intrusion on my feelings, I assure you, but was 
received with all the cordiality of a long-cher- 
ished friend. I also feel a pie isure in the reflec- 
tion that our acquaintance, though ace dental and 
slight, has resulted in our nmtual esteem and 
satisfaction. I think you, however, worthy a 
little reproof for the undeserved commendation 
you bestowed upon an individual so unworthy. 
I indeed hope I am a Cliristian, but a most un- 
faithful one ; a sinner, if ever saved, by grace, 
infinite and unmerited grace. This is all my 
boast, and all my hope. You mentioned last 
summer. I, too, often think of the happiness 
which I enjoyed in j-our society, and that of the 
other Shcffiold and also New- York friends, as 
pleasures gone by, and probably in relation to 
some of them, at least, never to be repeated. 
This is the signet which is stamped upon all our 
earthly enjoyments. But it is a feature in the 
character of that rest which remaineth for the 
people of God, that separation is unknown. 
" The fearful words, to part, are never heard above." 

How, my dear L , will the pleasures of 

Christian intercourse be increased when, free 
from sin and its flattering influence, we shall be 



permitted to enjoy, not only the society of the 
just made perfect, but also of angels, and even of 
the benevolent Redeemer himseli; whose pre- 
sence fills his children, while on earth, with such 
imutterable joy ; the joy of pardoned sinneis; 
the joy of being raised from the lowest state of 
degradation and misery, to the anticipaiion of 
the highest perfoct blessedness of which our ua- 
tm'es are capable. What love is tt^iis? How 
does all the vanity of earthly pleasures S'Tink 
into contenqjtible nothingness when brought into 
competition with thuse which flow from con- 
formity to God. They are not worthy to be 
named with the same breath, or weighed in the 
same balance. I would I were more influi^nced 
by the former, and les-s by the latter. 

You say you trust I am enabled to rejoice in 
view of several things. You wdl recollect them. 

Y^es, I do rejoice, especially in view of the 
benevolent enterprises of the day. It is not 
among the least of the privileges which God has 
bestowed upon us, that we are permitted to live 
in these ends of the world, when he is exciting 
his children to more spirited action in his service 
than formally. 

Among the various other benevolent enter- 
prises of the day, we behold the Anti-Slavery 
Society just emerging from a storm of opposition 
poured upon it, not omy by the world, but by 
those whose names stand Ibiemost on the re- 
cords of Christian benevolence. But the cause, 
I trust, is God's, and will eventually prevail. 
More than two millions of oppressed beings in 
the United States have cried, and their cries are 
entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth; 
and he has come down to deliver, and he will 
deliver, though it be by the destruction of their 
oppressors. 

I shall ever be glad to see you or hear from 
you. Yours respecifully. 

Electa Siikphked. 

After taking possession of a separate home for 
myself and boy, in 1851, I supplied the lack of 
society to my child, as far as able, by reading to 
him, a half hour of each evening, from works 
designed to entertain and instruct. Uncle Tom's 
Cabin was put mto my hand by a neighbor, and 
thus slowly perused. As I proceeded, day after 
day, my heart swelled with emotion too big for 
utterance, in beholding in Eva a delineation of a 
character so like the child I had given back to 
God two years before. The utterance I needed 
not to attempt, for none but God could under- 
stand my case, and he could read the heart. 
One, among mortals, has been led to say to me, 
that he was similarly impressed while reading 
the same work, although at the time he read, he 
was on the Pacific coast. 

In January, 185'.), I was with a circle of friends 
convened at the dwelling of your late grand- 
motlier. I found there those whose duty it is to 
qualify themselves to judge of matters pertaining 
10 their country's government, that theii- influence 
as performing members of the body politic, may 
be upon the side of " right," whose opinions upon 
the suliject of slavery were antagonistic. I very 
naturally suggested some ideas, when my former 
pupil, Mrs. Dowd, gently reminded me thf.t I 
once commended abolition movements. I told 
her, as we retired so as not to be overheard, (for 
I perfectly understood that woman's experience 



A motiikk's peack offkrino. 



er, 



It puM on 111" 



a-; 1 V. 
That I 



Mitiiico luy huuao liiid 

rri m<>rfyrpd, mj boy 

1-", nnd my 

, ' and iho 



.inonized and recorded, 

.ih 



i; . ir.-ii,', lit -'."t'l tiian ^ th;if O.i.l 1..t1 ' l:0.-ul if lii; i \v!i.> Vli..!!, .1 il, firr T s.il (<.,ivn to 
br 

Wll .'TO- 

lo\% 
(tpii. 
lo u 

in K 

this , ........ 

elect US 

nnfpel of 

pathy; t l.j or prol^.i l»i.i li.uy 

ifjHiiijf • I t'lHt H r,' .'<] <]•> iint<» 

BOIl' 

iu • 
Inl. 

cull 

tAk 
itfl ' 

be. 

tna 

bri: 
tiOn 

lo.l 
unil 
of 1 

Du yuu urtk, W'L)- .-(icak Ihtis to Mrs. Dowd, 
instead of others? I aoswt-r: Mrs. D. had, 
till'-'- •• ' 

.Sh. 

will. .. 
•lico! til. 
stood in ' 

iiig to kiu>w wiiitt 
it to mnkA of mo. 

\'.. ■■ 
oni' 

Tro •■- • ' ■ 

on ; 

nsc , , ■ \ 

sumuiil in the rear ol" my dweliui,r. by tiie 

time *hp 9tnr^ v.-ore n'^;>arf-r!t in ih" ^\:y, tbo 

mo - 

pi., 

;is t 

Al 

W'>r 

mnr 

evor 

till 

ex' 

Wl'-' 

bor 

na:;. ..... 

summit and tar 

Alth..-'-»i r :;r 

lx)y 

it, : 

hill 

an i 



iiiipusiliuU (^y>d Wuuid toUiivr 

1859. n little I :" t 

-', I hcATd thf 



[ C4III wi'ii avuid 
■ Ivm f\<"\ Mr?" 



I?' 

an' I 

their way litnvn nmmig ■ 

bers nro a pi't of il»o wf ■;!■ 

till. 

th.' 

an 1 

ra;, 

ori > 

safety ot" Utiier. brother, or i 
within;' that the calaniitv mi>. 



hv iwvu hiH UxJy bunii'd ? " For WJtu the mea- 
suro t!i<(t V" piot<>. it shall ht' m'^n'urf'd !ii'r> r.*-;." 
"I;. 
I II 

< lO'i ii.i-> j' 1 :: . ,■. i; 1 ;:: iii, v 

inh'Titanre. 

A little fATl . . ... .' tire 1. '..,.. 

out upon earth, anliko any bcioro ■. 
stupoudous for iU) r. port than for iu> i 
iia gnindou'. Its reverbt rations bi.>^.K li.f 
earth, and whelmed niankind with wonder. I 
s^t ill HIT Lome at the foot of Old Taconi', (New 
Mount Mvirett,) und a« I looked at the prcvni, 
I reviewed the past 

I recalled that, in 1834, a brother Aholitioniat 
mot M^ ffleazon, who hud in his day ben a 
8cb<'>lar niid a teacher, but was then bending be- 
neath the inQrmiiies of years and an over- 
wrought nervous frame, who accosted him 
with : 

" \V»11, hare you got your sword ready ?" 
" Yea, all Uie aword I want — the sword of the 
Spi.it." 

" Ah 1 but that won't do for G ," naming 

a leader rif a band whom I then supposed going 
forih under the banner of the Prince of iVace. 
When I learned of tbo tr.nfical movements at 
- Ferry, my heart nave to the el.K-r.^ of 
it It then withheld — ihc li..iior . f he;;.»{ 
t judges in new and ail' 
r, U»iv. Mr. Bradford, over r^ 
^ pulpit those who would ad. 
i.'ivements. 

■■ dear had been the fchool, I thanked 
lic had converttd mo from tho enr.r of 
in maintaining au opinion founded iu 
1 • 'j '"■■ "■• 

As I loikod in tho pictorial at the haggard 

Hfd astonsh.d vi»ag« portraying tho hero of 

Harper's Ferry, with tho fruit of hi.^ own loioa 

lyin;; by liia side, victims of hi' mad p'lr^u;!, I 

•'it whioh to.ik hold o; 

■ «. Tho fallen cot;- 

fij.«il to ,1 

I'V l.'u'll 

' one dxed purpose with an 

■•.;h I'-n- on at d r.nrib op- 

pc-ie, all Lv-.c '..■<■ ;. - a to 

the oountenan?e ai : r.i n( 

mar- 
r an 



e)6 



A mother's peace offering. 



uttered to a brother-in-law through hii first wife, 
into whose ccrapany he fell while traveling', 
that he could " not hold up his head." He bad 
taken up uo carnal weapon, therefore no carnal 
weapon was takea up against him. For teven 
years was ihis strong man bowed, yea, he bowed 
hi!* head as a bulrush. When not looking over 
his accounts, he labored alone in the tield, if not 
wet wiih the dew of heaven, welting the earth 
wiih his tearp. Hia vigor bad not abated. His 
locks were bushy and raven, with not a tsace of 
the frost of time upon them. I had, in my at- 
tempts to get access to his heart, once tcld him 
I desired him to help me preserve my aifection 
for him, that I might comfort him when the in- 
firmities of f:ge should come upon hioj. But he 
only gave me a contemptuous laugh, more like 
my boy's when I told him I was his mother at 
the lime he thought I was John Doten, than any 
thing else to which I can compare it. Yet no 
mtniion was made of his insanity, so far as I 
know, beyond what I have named. 

When John Brown took up arms at Harper's 
Ferry, the work of his maddened brain was soon 
cut shoit in righteousness — the remainder of 
his wrath restrained. But there were some who 
had been slain by this wrath : and does God to- 
day make inquisition for blood, as in the day 
when wrath first raised the carnal weapon ? If 
so, to v/hom does the inquiry come : " Where is 
thy brother?" Who siiall take up the wail 
for the untimely separation of husbands and 
wives, and parents and children, by those whose 
skin is culored like their own? My heart has 
been made to feel upon this subject, but it trust- 
eth in tiie Lord. The Judge of all the earth 
wid do right. He will Correct the wrongs com- 
mitted by earthly, selfconstituted, and partial 
judges, whL)se strong wills can not bend to God's 
will, after being committ^ d to an opinion. 

When my hu.sband h,-.d made the last pro- 
clamation, not openly, but, as it were, in secret, 
of bis purposes toward me, his woik, too, wss 
soon cut short. A fever succeeded tlie cold he 
spoke of iu his letter to Cliarlie. Rumor has 
told me that the last night of his life, as he lay 
in his chamber, his eldest son being his watcher, 
the daughter with whom he sta'd was ready late 
at night to retire, but felt that she must first go 
and see her father. She went to his room, 
wbere her brother was lying upon one bed and 
her father upon another. She asked her 
brother how her father was, and he said he 
guessed be was belter, ts he was more quiet. 
But on looking at the father she saw tha': he was 
failing; and, on her asking him if she had done 
all for him that he could expect since he had had 
a home with her, he said, " Te-J," and then add- 
ed : " It takes a woman to know 1" I thank 
God that he has permitted me to hear of such a 
c mfession from the lips of my liusband in that 
honest hour. It speaks volumes to me. It tells 
me that he saw the mistake of a lifetime iu a 
moment when God had brought him into straits 
which should compel Lim to look to the Rock 
higher than himself. Ah ! could I have been 
with him, and through my ministrations brought 
back the ebbiug currents of li'e, as in the case 
of my boy when apparently dying, I doubt not 
he would have been a converted husband. 1 
doubt not he is in heaven the spirit of a convert- 
ed husbiiid. I think h;s own pen recorded the 



proofs of his yielding early to revengeful wrath 
toward woman. I think he palliated instead of 
cor.ffssing his own faults, and therefore became 
blind to them — that he aggravated instead of 
excusing woman'.s, and therefore laid the founda- 
tion tor a blind madness toward her. But had 
there been no intervening obstacles, with what 
he had gaiiied by past experience, I believe his 
second marriage would have been happy beyond 
the average. And although God had wise de- 
signs to fulfill in suffering his expectations to be 
disappointed, this excuses no sinful deed by 
which his heart was turned against the mother- 
in-law in his house. And so I think in the case 
of John Brown ; whatever praise comes to God 
from his wrath, those whose willful or mistaken 
faults led to that wrath, must repent of their 
ow^n sins before they can enter the world where 
wrath can never come. 

"It takes a woman to know 1" IVIiat does it 
take a woman to know ? How best to dress 
the fild? rule in the mechanic's or merchant's 
s'op? minister at the public altar? or stand 
at the helm of government in town or city. 
State or nation? No. A new question had 
come before the mind, of such urgency that, for 
the time being, it set all other questions aside. 
It has been told me that Mr. Hamlin Savage (a 
Christian neighbor) called, and Mr. Little asked 
him what he thought of his case ; and as Mr. S. 
studied to reply so as to produce no check to the 
efforts of the physician who sought to restore 
health to the mortal man, by saying, "I think 
you a very sick man, but think I have known 
persons recover who were as sick as you," the 
sick man fixed upon him an inquiring gaze, one 
of the most mtense scratiny ; and after the 
vi-itor had withdrawn, said to his son: "Mr. 
Savage thinks I won't get well." Days pass 
on, divided between hcpe and fear, till at last 
the written verdict appears. The prisoner is the 
first to read the sentence of death, for it is first 
unfolded to the inner man. But as its signs be- 
cime visible to eyes without, woman is the first 
to read. Yes it takes a woman to know when 
and where death begins its work. Satan under- 
stood woman's physiology when he planned to 
bring primitive humanity down to death. God 
understood it when he planned to bring fallen 
humanity back to life. 

Satan has lost none of his powers of under- 
standing since that time, and God has lost none of 
his. I have been permitted to know how the mind 
which has had its powers concentrated upon the 
work immediatelj^ before it, so that the past is 
out of view, can and does, under a burning fever, 
see the pa*t life at one glance, as much as does 
the artisr, who lays down his pencil, and steps 
back from the picture, the individual liues of 
which have so long fixed his attention, that he 
may have a view of the whole. I can therefore 
appreciate, knowing as I do, the history of that 
d\ing man, the confession from his lips: "It 
takes a woman to know." 

Let us now take a retrospect, and criticise as 
we may be able the picture which truth held up 
in that trying hour to him who had no oppor- 
tunity to improve by the addition or erasure of a 
single line. My letter will not allow of my go- 
irg into extensive detail But a few important 
particulars will assist to guide the judgment. 
At the time Mrs. Birge (sister of Mr. Little) 



A MOTH Kits PBACK OFFKKINO. 



67 



iDfido iJ« hrr In't vi»it, ow w«>*-k V>*f' r<» Wfr own ' Iho «|i<«i|rn«.r, Ihn miihor aT itll Ih* murmurinir* in 
d... 

hr 
hi. : 
c> 

WtX - --.--- ---- . 

iowino; iliai b« ouco r 

TeU coiiAlraiutd to try . 

nioiiil uuU Dpiritiiul wciiurv' ui 

cbiiJrvn l>y Myiug: "You w»iil 

my chiliirt'u iuio litll, aud thun jump in uu Uk 

of lliimi." 

Siill, uftor sho had paxe- I a a.v u-h,.! i' t! .. r 
deemed, ho, without c<>' 
bcKHti to iiKiuire aiUr !■ 

fuuud. Uu 8ol hia fuce ZiuuMard v«ii y o<iUliwUi^ 
ly ; h'll HM he wnn in>t a nmri in put hi* liHrid to i Thi« i* t 
tl- ' 



'lim in iho 
liimM'ir uiid 
lue to throw 



iiaiidwr. 
in that 
to bim, '■ W 
ho Domed ill 



1.4.VI 



leu Ironi lue error i^l 
■' WhiMi a man tm-! 
a very (.■ 
norul. itl 



t< 



I axked him tor a yearly porUoii lu etmblu mo lo 
give wliiu llie vohiiitary KfT'TiiiiiS wtro a>kt;d in 
the church of which I wait a mfn.ber, he handed 
nie tivo dollars, wbicli. though 1»ki tliaa the 

tit' ■■ ■- ■ •' - ' • ■'■■ 



Hirniii lh»-m 111)1, ttbii til' 

hit* with «lwolIiiitf in a hi 

a mi)der«lor could H'lt oi', i.:i. 1 

lived, one to the afie of ten. and U.' 



I hy tiio woman wiiose epmi was wrong, or her 

.0 door into the foli he was i judgment not much. Ah I he hn'i iiv-d v> p<^ 

now hcbKtug, liwlore he camo upon a etumbhng- i dehneated mo-t sttikiDgly, in li 



block and rock of offuudo, liappy had it Ken for 
him. 

For had ho found Christ before loeing his con- 

fi'^ '• -...■.-..• ;- —l . 1 ..v.. y >,,1.. 

lo 

w . , _ 

eowu wi itial dtruclion while buUdiug lii.-t eailhly 

hou'w. !iud as the F^riptufp'' a*f fi*" he mu"t 

ri 



of a cia«s as vanea in tneir motiv> 
character as in any other order o( ' 
in secret or optrn nMnociatit'n. A a hu j^rauu'i.: 
and without oxplannlion withdrosr from me t 



Clmriln--. (i! 
pray«r fir t 

Ih- •: ' * 



bui 1 beiiuvi' 



1 did not ttiiiik my 
i?t. I cnly R.^koda pro- i whil 

••l«. If C..: 



VI- 3 uud to 

1 !i I bad o> •.•r Bii- 

oi[ • i I'l rv I, mi to him, hi. i II :i ' ■•uiir. Ii 

was a prayer for « m»lin)i».''ive spirit. And I 

/lave learned that this i-i -i butt r u-rt \'ui.u i., \.,- 

empowered t^i give. L . 

iu the events of bis pr 

out hia defligna, "Accoid n^ lo your UAh bu it 

unto you," my huebiud seemed to see me to bo > bad tbe aaUafacUoD of living a silent reprover. 



of the Spirit the tlrf>t mollie 

through the ii' : . .ii'^ i: I'lo 

spirit he did : liOl u.s be 

't'tinkfal that :. :' ere ho en- 

r-'d U(K)n an un. o. And now I 

r.o gone over the _ ..oh alTorda vi.vible 

proof of my huahaud'ci ni>>ii< •mania. If his own 

writings and deed*, as sliown above, do rot 

or prove an irrational or a hemou!»ly wicked 

1 i, I am not a di'^vnier of truth. Tnc I;in^r 

• -■■ -.at. I be' — • ■■ ■ ' •• ■ -',1 

one of ihu - 

And I Ik: 

hi.s neigbbora as such. And 1 believe he liiuuKnl 

ho vrn^ doing right in seeking to r«d''es« the 

- he had intlicled up<jn hisi nioilierlewi 

by a second marriage, although he 

' ' ' to juflice or mercy toward 

le of his house. \Vh<iice, 

. ,: this monomania.'* How far 

-e lay in the fact that in his father's 

■utc, and in his own, there was a sc- 

c-'iid niarriagp, I can not say, or how far in 

the fact that his own spirit, when very younsr, 

tn undulv provoked t 

• erty. To make mot 

— • tturally, in bi.'« ■ ■ 
iiing theme. Next < 
in her weakiiosH, ■ ■< 

great innvids upin the troa.turtnl !ii<>rvH. And 
h" wait*^, pnd doiio'^i, and feared lo 
c<': or at least 

u; - choice did 

I. I •' ' ' 1 ' him, art a<« 

to r lovers, and wait in su.v 

he wroto his ■ 
lod them, and i; - 

>u^ Uic .lauc u tiie home of hi."? wedatu ..:•.; i.c 



08 



A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING-. 



Alas ! how costly the Eatisfaction I A few years 
after my marriage I was visiting with my hus- 
band, where was present a teacher, (Mr. Sim- 
mons,) who urged the claims of tlie science of 
phrenology upon his disciple?. I met him with 
such objections as then e^cisted in my own mind, 
and inquired to know the utility of the science, 
if it were indeed founded in truth. He replied 
that it might aid parents in guiding the educa- 
tion of theu' children. I said I sliould probably 
study my children by observing their native 
promptings, independent of phrenology, even if 
I understood the science. The argument closed. 
But before the evening's visit closed Mr. Sim- 
mons asked my husband if he ever submitted to 
examination by a phreuologift. He had not. 
Mr. S. then said : " As you are chosen to decide 
the debate at the next meeting of our Lyceum, 
I have taken the liberty to study your develop- 
ment a little, and would think tou lacking in the 
organ that enables to trace effects to their causes, 
and thus helps to an accurate judgment." I was 
struck by tbe remark, and lelt somewhat en- 
lightened in regard to the mystery that hung 
over my own head. Still, I only laid up the 
saying in my heart. Last winter, when my boy 
was in the city, I went with him to Dr. Fowler, 
and had a written examination of his head. 
Providence has answered for me the question 
which I put to Mr. Simmons. The boy must 
come to an age when he will be guided more or 
less by his own judgment, though he can not so 
well observe himself as others. The utility, then, 
consists in having the counsel of a professional 
man, who can read his case as his mother does. 
For, if the boy has in his hereditary nature a te- 
nacity of opinion and strength of will which will 
make him remarkable as a man, and is yet easily 
influenced by persuasion ; has a strong affection 
for his mother, yet finds it difficult to honor her 
opinion, and withal has his dwelling in a com- 
munity where the popular voice (blended with 
silent workit'gs) has put down the mother's 
opinion " very low," it is surely well to have 
htlp, so that in the mouth of two or three wit- 
nesses, every word of truth may be established, 
ere the child shall have blindly committed him- 
self to an opinion, the consequences of which are 
to be important and lasting to himself and house, 
I am thiukful that I was permitted to take away 
the silver I carried to my married home, and 
leave it in pawn till I should bo able to pay the 
s'ranger whose counsel came to the stricken and 
widowed mother in a lime of need. While Dr. 
Fowler was telling Charlie the things which I 
knew of his peculiar nature, it occurred to me 
that it might aid me in my attempts to guide 
him against opposing obstacles in the way of 
riglit, to have my own phrenological character 
written. And it was done. Of this I will speak 
hereaiter. 

I will stop now to tell you, that as I have pur- 
sued my work of writing, time has pursued his 
flight, and this page finds me at a point in his 
cycle bearing date No'/emher 22d, 1860. I con- 
tinued in my home at Miller's Hotel till the 
frosts of autumn admonished me to depait. Then 
having found a friend in the person of the Ex- 
Committee man who first installed me teacher of 
the institution which taught me to read, who 
bought my notes against Mr. D. K. Savage, and 



cashed the first, I came to New- York, hired a 
furnished room near the Putnam House, oppo- 
site the railroad depot, where I can resort daily 
to a ladies' dining- saloon, and be served by a 
very pleasant young lad to what food my neces- 
sities require, by paying what i^. is worth. Take 
care of my room and person, afcer ordering coal 
and kindlings, having ascertained that servants 
can be had if I shall fail so as to need them. 
Can ride the whole route of Fourth Avenue cars 
for five cents, walk then a few blocks on Fulton 
street, and attend the world-renowned prayer- 
meeting, and return at the same charge. Am 
one mile from tlie temple dedicated to science 
and art by Peter Cooper, (now a resident of the 
city,) where the disciples may congregate at any 
hour from 9 a.m. to 10 p.m., without mor ey or 
price, on condition only of good behavior, and 
of being under the care of parent or guardian, if 
under fourteen years of age, to a "feast of fat 
things," served up in the reading-room, picture- 
gallery, musical, mathematical, philosophical, or 
chemical classes, lecture-room, or cheiniats' la- 
boratory. May walk the spacious halls, or broad 
and solid stairways, and ft-el as much at home as 
upon the sidewalks of town or city. This build- 
ing, too, being in the line of Fourth Avenue cars, 
is readily reached when I can not walk. Another 
delightful resort to which T have access is the 
Central Paik, where a pleasant day may be 
passed amid beautiful scenery, with the e^e lost 
to city scenes, the journey thither costing six 
cents. And lastly, the churches. Yes, New- 
York churches. 

I once spent six months where I did not know 
of a prayer to God being offered within six 
miles of me, except in the closet, and that closet 
consisting of the secret chambers of the soul, or 
the 

" Bower where the pine and tlie poplar have spread 
Aud wove, with their branches, a roof o'er my head." 

Over our head, I should say, for God had left me 
one who should accompaDy ma in all thos-e jour- 
ney mgs. While there, my lips, one dny, seemed 
touched as wita a live coal from off G-od'a altar, 
as my heart burst out in ttie stanza : 

" The Lord of glory is my liglit, 
And my salvation, too ; 
God is my strength, nor will I fear 
What all my foes can do." 

That stanza was my daily song. I had with me 
no hymn-book, and recollecttd no mose. But 
while spending the winter in my secluded moun- 
tain home, the following stanza became my 
prayerful song: 

" One privilege my heart desires, 
Oh ! grant me an abode 
Among the churclies of thy saints, 
The temples of my God." 

And that prayer is being answered. Yes, I 
have been spared to recover strength, before I 
go hence, and to taste something of the joy the 
ancient prophets must have felt when the temple 
at Jerusalem stood in its grandeur, and its .state- 
liness, inviting the waiting assembly on holy day. 
I live alone, and being nobo'iy's wife or daughter 
or sister or teacher, I can go forth in the garb of 
a servant, aud offend no one; for servants are 
permitted to go in the public ways and into the 
churches. And then the alliance of the churches 



A MUTHEKS I'KAf'K OFFKKING. 



09 



to carry llio gnotl \i •.:■•> i.i" riilccrni'K' 1 .m' into ■. •mil L'i."i tu vi''ir (-'"tcr Aiiin'o L'T Bw Ptutc 
tlio Inrii'H ami l»v' 

ofllie' .'U luivo UM;w<.d .' 1 .ti.^Acr, L^ 

No. M oi is tn i.t>t nil iiR T '.iHo of .'iveu back avon a tithe of tbc irra- 

!■'■ ■ . - .. ,-■ 



I i me Uio tir*t hour he mw or heard of me: 



UOl lor ijvitii; BO nlluuicii liiikl 1 Citti Ti Ui.'rtl iVolll MRS. T<. J. LiTTLR : VOU an* cllii' 

tho Initnr nl nnv mo'n'>!»t wli"n 1 f"ol o'lmon- nii >in<i«iiiil do>rr«« of imlnslrv. \ 



tuun. 

lllCIV . 

! id. Yes; tiio joy ol' the ; 

u. tho law of tho Lord my •. 

wiicliicr lii.ii law I'O found apoa tlio in-pirtJ 

intfn. or iu tlie flold of nature or nrovidt-Do.*. 



.ui and to 
• nil tho V 



1 1 I 1 will I . ■ I 1 

tho hodv no as tu 



lie ui tliitlU. VuU tliU^l 

;irt<! iini-ic (ifin rT>*>»»i'> to 



t. 

FoJT_> .' 1 i. 

Htand hIdiio ;. 

ft" 



. lit UpCU 

iin«t tlin V. 



hud iiuiiiiii;,' Iroiii iii.i lulu«;r ? ' nnd ii!< uiy iutunif 
uni i^. truo, tlio answer wn9, " N> : t!if>rf> we«» fif- 
teen liandred dollars W' ■> 
have." >'o\v I have to 

of • -•.,.. 



never had so mucM irom ii'a laf 

•IMirt'T"? pir .;' .Ti-.-nrv, \<^C,. ac 

.1 ' -Venr's i<r^.M.!i;, i,a 

11 .» pillow, u penny, 

w I held was not bis father's to 

V ! ■ ■' ••'•■ :• ' • • '• " • did not 

k: lt the 

w me in 

CJCchilu^l• iur laat piAwr. i He Utu) gave it to 
me. Tnankfl f>r n l-d-I^t'on hi<">.l ijpon l!i«> 
Scripture, Ki\ 
VC!B«.l. It w 

bi-rs should I . II 11 

would buvo ■ : 10 war 

ii^aiiist the i. -. An- 

other inquiry baa been n ot that clasa 

which ii at liberty to i^r-t"'- r la- 

tion$ and their workings in (.\.tu:iiUi. 
an old nurse who did not lire iu .'^ .'. 



ll ViJvi Ufc l^iiii 

•at amount of \ 
.1 you hud 
Vou are i 



1, and 



..le, and too 
' - ' • V . .i: ely enough 

>3 of your own 
■io.-. You^reverj' 
ptTsfVtring, cvctuUiiigly unacious of your pur- 
poses, and strict in adhering to your priixiplps; 
are naturally just, honest and > ' 
You may be led astray by your j ■ i 

otherwise you are very ('—' * ' 
to. You are naturally r« i 

tone of moral !..liii_' , . . , '" 

tbetic and U : 

You are <| . copy and draw and do 

dinVrcnt kinds ui" v^Lrk. 

You arc rLflno<l and elevated in your feelings, 
and have a L;. ' ": ' - - ".. 

You are vor i 



of style. Vou eiijov oruu.ry alino-;, m v\- c».-«, 

nnd have wishetl many a time that you enwld t)>r 

: .? bo a man and make a njM^vch. 

ig, thinking intellect ha.s the as- 

You are much more interested in t 

addfiss your philosophy thnu thoe« • '< 

your perception. 

Your ni -morv of »>v»»nt« is p^^r. 1»nt yo:ir mem- 
ory of I 1 
ficuliv : 



kn .. :,.. ... 

bfcauso 1 ir to my 

kindnxl and - ive my 

work. Of this c'lofKO 1 iiavc only U» my, I went 
to nir kiiidrrwl wtmn too weak to do for mvsolf 



II' 

tcv ; 

ties there, at. 
health. An> 



soon for 
. d to me: ' 



1" 

111 

u; 




.iigvUjj^joa iiivui^ vcrbi«.iy or 


C : 
ical. 




, . _. , ., ^ 



. and yoa enjoy fun; cspec ally if 

ae. 



A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 



You have a great amount of energy, but you 
have not a constitution equal to it. You need 
more of the influence of destructiveness, but your 
combaliveness is very active, and jou do not al- 
low any obstacle to remain long in your way. 

You are very devoted to your friends ; few 
are more so, and as a wife you were exclusive 
in your love, and you can not well love but one, 
for you can not forget your first love. 

Your sense of purity in aflection is one of the 
leading features in your character. 

You have very strong attachment to children, 
and are not only interested in them as such, but 
are interested in their welfare and moral im- 
provement. You are much attached to one 
place. You make many friends and lose none. 
Your power over others is threefold — it comes 
first through the aflections ; secondly, through 
your sympathies ; and. thirdly, through your in- 
tellect. You would have excelled as a teacher, 
and had a good influence over your pupils. 

You must strive to be more lazy, loss thought- 
ful and ambitious, and take life more easily ; be 
out-doors what you can, but avoid nervous ex- 
citability. 

Said an intellectual friend, in looking over tlie 
dei^cription : "There is one statement that does 
not suit your character — a lack of self-reliance." 

But I assured her I knew it to be in my na- 
ture ; and that what in my history looks like 
self-reliance is God-reliance. Yes, if I am not 
destined to fall before the host that to-day think 
of me as a self-deceived, or cunning woman, 
feigning the weakness I plead as an excuse for 
not going to work after the fashion of my strong 
townswomen, it, will be for the same reason that 
David did not fall before Goliath of the Philis- 
tines. 

I have often said to my friends: " My call to 
duty lies in making the most of a little. A little 
school education, a little language, a little money, 
a little strength, and a little name." To be faith- 
ful in tlie few things God gives me is my duty, 
and leave the rule with hicn to distribute, after 
his own good pleasure. I have nothing that I 
have not received. My greatest gift is a large 
experience. An experience that has come from 
asking in faith for that understanding which is a 
well-spring of life ; and now that its gurglings are 
in my heart, nothing can oflend mo. Nothing 
shall be able to separate me from the love of 
God. Some of my friends have in years past 
disputed me when I said that my gift in lan- 
guage is small. I have simply enough to pour 
forth from the weU-spring of the he;irt as I feel 
called upon. By and by my lips wiU be sealed, 
and my pen descended to my heirs, and then I 
shall need no language of words. Notiiing can 
pass the " dark valley " but the heart's treasures. 

One inquiry has pressed upon my m nd ever 
since I came tbrth from the chamber where my 
first-born met her unprecedented fate. And that 
has been, "Wliat shall I do before I go hence, to 
prevent little children from suftering the abuses 
which have come into my house? The abuses 
to the children of the living moiher, in separating 
them from their earthly father's favor, and the 
greater abuses to the children of the deceased 
mother, in separating them from the favor of 
their mother's God, their own heavenly Father. 
Now I feel called upon to come out from my 



seclusion, and present to the children of this 
generation the martyr of the nineteenth century, 
whose dying agonies say to the spirit that kin- 
dleth .the coals of strife and separateth chief 
friends : Put up now thine avenging sword. 
Leave vengeance to Him to whom it belongeth. 
Be subject to the powers that be, that are or- 
dained of God. If those powers allow the mas- 
ter of the household to possess a wife by a 
second marriage, if the former be removed by 
death, or to possess a man-servant or a maid- 
servant, understand that it is not contrary to the 
law, given amid the thunderings of Sinai, that he 
should do it ; but it is contrary to that law that 
one should bear fal?e witness against that neigh- 
bor; or covet, or steal, or kill any thing that is 
his ; or incite any member of his household to 
refuse to honor its head. 

I do not propose to enter the field of public 
strife with any other than a healing potion for its 
wounded victims. As a teacher, I claim nothing 
higher than the Prmiarj Department. Into that 
department I am permitted to bring the law of 
the Lord, and to show that its violation brings 
death, just as surely if we violate it ignorantly 
as willfully. But death will be more bitter, in 
proportion as we had opportunity to know, and 
chose ignorance for the sake of cleaving to a 
darling opinion or practice. Now, if there be 
any sons of men who would come to me for sim- 
ple teaching, while their government lies in other 
hands than mine, I will, in this letter, give them 
my opinion, the same as I gave to the youngest 
of my mother's sons, once my subject, but now 
master of his own house. And when I have 
done this, I will leave the matter, as I think he 
has wisely done. He said to me, after compar- 
ing our opinions: "I propose that j'ou and I wait 
ten years from this seventh day of October, 
1860, before we again discuss the slavery ques- 
tion." This brother is not fully committed, but 
has, like others of his class, a great deal to weigh 
which comes through the public prints and 
speeches. 

My own education consisted in being taught 
to read, and then left to search alone for my au- 
thor's thoughts. My system of teaching was an 
improvement of my own invention, (althougli ex- 
isting out of my sight,) in which I not only taught 
my pupils to read, but assisted them, as fast as 
they read, to make their author's thoughts their 
own. Here Mes my present argument. God is 
the author of the Scriptures, as well as the au- 
thority for all government. In the last com- 
mandment of his, written by his own finger upon 
tables of stone, (emblems of perpetuity,) he has 
given a most accurate and beautiful pattern of a 
house. St. Paul, under the Gospel, has given it 
grace, and Jesus in his new commandment brings 
that without which every house is cheerless. 
Never m as there, since national existence was 
formed, a nation so dependent upon the carrying 
out of the pattern found in the Scriptures in tlie 
individual or family houses which compose the 
mass, aa is the national body of the United 
States. Now, I do not believe there is any more 
oppression in the sight of God in those States 
which we caU dave States than in those called 
non-slaveholdiyig. But, alas 1 there is a great deal 
too much in both. And it arises from haste of 
spirit, and attempting to climb up to honor and 
stability in some other way than by the pattern 



A MOTIIEKS PEACE OFFERIXr, 



71 



I; 



'Thnn shnlt ni». mrrt thy nf^^r'-HT** ' jvn'H. Hf rrtTj^t b<? n prf-tfr p^w! twi'l'T, even 



K 

or r.> • 

in to I 

one, II 

thi-n n 

am, <i- t 

and |iii)' tur vncii wlml tiit-y iirv wurln. liu cati 

not par f>r t!ie virl'in-w wontfin wh«t fh*» !•• 

worth, >i 

It 13 u 

J..-,- - 



h 
'ml. 



nod !i;i 



which n)akc man the property of bia fellovr. 



ject to • 

I"' 



81" 

U) bitii. 
tico. I 
osaembly. 
py. If hell 



' p ll'lIC JU3- 

'. ruler of ati 
TO hap- 
This 
...- Where 
(or tho op- 
ill th- 0:inl.: 



he wiii do npht,ithougii he sulVor Uuir fa 
pationr" tn h-> Inrp tri'd. Kv-^rj* r^y 



'•: I 'T an ;i':j' .ruiu 
'" lo com J uic opiu- 

will iu that 

-( which now 
Hupport it. I>ul whurv nboll il,bu rvtnored ? Shall 
it descend to their leml h<^'n« ? or shall it be 
plucked up and i- ^ of the aea ? 

Tho I^rd gnmt it 

Tills can only bv « ..■ i > ■! > '" ' ti- 

niuiiion of htarls. In ton V' ^ 

man. and w<ininn too. now »]:■ t- 

)f like a green ba_\ -tree, sl;all hav< : 
'TV mnv br> pn^i^Vt. \-a thrv i~::': ■ i. 

wLlch 
. -st con- 



di.«:*ulv»;vl. i 

gvstom of hi 



(iod l.ati iiii>;iiuud a 
and I belinvft tliat n'> 

>1 is the i ' 

as that 



Icai'nUig wuiild briug tiieiu iulu a hglil wliicli 

should rppruvo their d""'^ — d'X'da by whidi 

ivo drawn » >h 

■^ Wfflk i: 4 



A 

V<. i^ Wwil ilL-< 

fi. . l» L'R'lier ir 

V . 1 -ay : •• \'\. . 
slavery, now that 

p,,.. ... : A .^ . ... 

La 



II iiiiii.-''. i.ji.'i a wido j more: for the crafty have to deal witii a <»o«i 
rt' 1 tr.-n.-oiri'S. ) who mctos unto tlem -M tli-y ri>«'a«'!'« nnto 

.r opinion of (others. When tl- I 

Yea, I iiiav I that unto the cr ■ 



)Iy tjrut view was at the Mar^ 

vunii (!; : and next in tVie 

gr. It city. T* 

ill ■: and l:l^ 

Si. i>. 

slave V. 

me froa; . 

of Mi^ haxtcT, a liu^Unco oi 

down thi-< St. J h.'-; river. \ 

some in place, and prtiliiiiiirly 

about \ i found Ji:n very wvll 



»yo. 1 . 



miiid. 

'\f and 
1 



A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 



a merely human production. This belief enters 
iuto the veiy depths of niy conscience. The 
whole history of man proves it." — Daniel Web- 
ster. 

Now if we turn to the Sermon on the Mount, 
we find the Preacher (not " merely human") 
closing thus: ''Therefore, whosoever heareth 
these sayings of mino and cloeth them, I will liken 
liim unto a wise man, which built his house upon 
a rock: and the rain descended, and the floods 
came, and the winds blew and beat upon that 
house ; and it fell not : for it was founded upon a 
rock. 

" And every one that heareth these sayings of 
mine aud doeth them not, shall be likened unto a 
foolish man, which built his house upon the sand : 
and the rain descended, and the floods came, and 
the winds blew, and beat upon that house ; and 
it fell : and great was the fall of it." 

One of these sayings, namely, " But I say 
unto you that ye resist not evil,'' has been per- 
verted by sympathizers with motherless children 
and African servants. Instead of taking to them 
the truth that children and servants are to honor 
those whom God has placed over them, in the 
fear of the Loid. trusting him to make all work 
for theii good, they have been taught to search 
for occasion to res'st them as evil-doers ; and God 
k'lows how many of those whose unsubdued 
tempers are the plague of themselves, their fami- 
lies, neighborhoods, and churches even, may 
riji;hteously trace the cause to this unrighteotcs 
sympathy. 

Another saying of our more than human 
Preacher closes in this raaunf r : " Take, therefore, 
no thought for the morrow : for the morrow shall 
take thought for the things of itself. Sufflcient 
unto the day is the evil thereof." 

It was this undue thought for to-morrow 
whicli led the father of my Mary to deny to her 
the servant needed in the hour of weakness aud 
pain. An»1 when she awoke as from a death- 
sleep, and received strength, through his strong 
hand taking hers aftectionately in his own to 
raise her hand to his lips in silent prayer for only 
a ki:-s of aftlction, his heart of stone was turned 
to fltsh. Yet was his mind in darkness. And 
wherefore this darkness ? Says the Preacher we 
.ve quoting: " If thine eye be evil, thy whole 
body shall be full of darkness. If, therefore, the 
litrht that is in thee be darkness, how great is 
that darkness!" Put, what proof that the eye of 
Mary's father was evil? When I accompanied 
mj^ husband to Franklin, the place of his early 
abode, (in September, 1840,) as we were pass- 
ing over a niountainous road, he recalled and re- 
lated to me a scene of his early lite, the thoughts 
of which still afforded him satisfaction. 

He said that when a young man, living in 
Connecticut, he had occasion to go West one 
autumn. A poor widow of his acquaintance 
owned a horse whi':-h she could not afford to 
keep through the winter, and thinking he miciht 
self it for her to a better advantage at the West 
than she could do at home, she ofl'ered him tlie 
privilege of riding it, if he would put it off for her 
as well as he could. When he reached the place 
where he related to me the circumstance, he met 
a stranger of whom he made some inquiries, and 
finding that he wished to purchase the horse, 
struck a bargain, and exchanged the horse (or 
the stranger's watch, and what money he had, 



amounting in all to something more than twenty 
dollars. When he returned to Connecticut, he 
called on the widow and as^ked her to set a price 
to her horse, which she declined doing. He 
waited a long while, and several times solicited 
the widow to name a price, but in vain. He 
then hit upon the expedient of 'getting six dol- 
lars in fifiy-cent pieces, and talcing it to her as 
the pay for the horse. She took it, and seemed 
pleased. 

n,id he known the Scriptures, and the power 
of God, as every American young man should 
know them, he might have avoided underpinning 
his own stately home with that which looked so 
much like devouiing a widow's house, by taking 
such a commission from the weak woman who 
confided in Ids candor. God seeth not as man 
seeth, when vengeance against an evil work is 
not executed speedily. He had taken care that 
that seed-sowing should bring its harvest into 
his own home — when he, through contemning in- 
stead of honoring woman in proportion as she 
was weaker than himself, had reared an instru- 
ment by wdiich the woman of his own approba- 
tion should be robbed of his heart and his home ; 
and he, living with houses and lands and money 
at his command, a solitary man, an exile from 
human or divine sympathy, a prisoner beneath 
the broad canopy of heaven, in darkness concera- 
iug wherefore God contended with him. 

A friend whom I highly esteem has said to 
me: " Mrs. Little, I think it the strangest thing 
in the world that you can be so attached to 
Sheffield." 

I have seen much in ShefQeld at which Jesus 
would say, "Be angry," but through learning 
of him not to let the sun go down upon my 
wrath, I have been able to keep my eye so clear, 
as to perceive that Sheffield is no more inferior 
to her sister towns in Beikshire county, than is 
Berkshire count}' inferior to her sister counties 
m Massachusetts, or than is Massachusetts in- 
ferior to her sister States in the Union, or than 
is our Union of States inferior to the sister na- 
tions of the earth ; or than is the house to which 
my Mary was allied, inferior to the average houses 
of the land. From the Scripture truth th.nt jndg- 
ment must begin at the house of God, I think 
that I may claim for my house aijd my town 
superiority. But Sheffield is a branch of the 
body politic which is yet j'oung. And " child- 
hood and youth are vanity." Yet are they not 
to be despised. Ohl no. The glory and hope 
of the world rest upon our children and youth. 
What we need is, that the foolishness naturally 
bound up in the heart of the child, should, by 
some wholesome discipline, be driven from him, 
before the government of houses, towns. States, 
or nations devolves upon him; and if, unfortu- 
nately, any have inherited or usurped these re- 
sponsibilities who were not chastened betimes, 
that they should be converted. But how difficult 
for man to be born again when he is old, espe- 
cially if he have long willed to be rich. Here is 
a case impossible for human instrumentality to 
effect. but nothing is impossible with God. 
Let us then stand in awe, when God lays his 
hand heavily upon our strong men who trust in 
riches. 

Perhaps there is a larger class in Sheffield than 
the average, who h^ve obtained the greater gain 
than riches — "srodliness, with contentment;" 



A MUTUKH.S PKACK OFKEKISO, 



\vUo6o liearU are bODMt, handsi (li!'/<'t'.'. aii<I 
hcutU wiflu in Uivir owu biiAiucs*; ' 



tifv pif»>i«",ir<' til' 



unwue in that 

thuniSflviH, 

tliotumlves, i 

tut 

ni 

ki 

at 

CI 

lu. 

1 

lliey, 1 ii. 1 '.'. ,1 ii 1 oiii '.1, ;iii'i i 

for not iloi.ij; more. In ihit), 

thxivT with our niator Sttitcs, w 

dilTtTcnl Iruui Utal of ih-ir «' 

Bcrvntor in tlicir brttlirou of • 

luinu from niy Duighborit. ^1 

I conW »lo (w>nio tliiniTH wliit ■ 

III. : 

kh 

Hot, ..... . .. 

S'letlitld i- . fruit- ' 

ful field. O! I ■ is an 

appropriation lor tiie nupport of u liutnw for lier 
poor. Tl)f"r"ff-rf* f cnn never p'> cm/y t!i'«^'ieh 
feuroftl 
hs I V3it. 

it; nnd .;.■■;;. a..- 

or of II I know \\ : 

eioM 1 ■. • V I'f law. - - 

bii' :kli that liio iaw nsked 

at . : » f the poor. I do not ' 

coLcviVt) ludl il will bo any hurdi-r for one who 
hoH alAiiv!) Rtrivon to dn rivht in tlio siglit of 
G> ' ■ ' ' 180, than it 

w !i. I do not 

ti.ii... . ....,■.,„., ,. J,... s house ao 

DOW laiiiciitiog in heaven that t ley over went I 
thera I 8Upj oso that if I ever get to the homo ] 
for the poor, there will ho no strong hand Inid , 
upon m-* Ut IjoM in" from e"incr nt-fvirl t.> iiihal" ' 
iU- 
ot 

iu< 

b" .A .....■■ V : 

dobt^ by c^'nlfact, siiail no'. exce'i my mraiis, 
before I niako an assignmen' nf t'M«o means to 
those whom I htive pron 

I havo lost nono of nr. 'he bencvo- 

loi.* ■■■■ . . ,. - 

tl . 

I'f-'- ■ • • ' -' 

wl.cn 1 I stea to the miMionary w: 

twenty rt''' "^r-'iT^ ,in K.i>:tir:i Af-i - 

hear hi < i u..>i {^.o- 

pie whi -1, niid nmn 

ih ■ : 



I.HTIOSJ IV. 

On the 12th April. 18G0. IweDtr-tb'eo ycara 

. ... .1 . .1 .. 1 .1 I tl (,...;,. 

i 

.1 ttie carUi 
■* with wltlier«<l Icare* and OowerlFti •Ulk*." 



tiio abode ol man. 1 kUkkI wiieu- liii! 
- n. when hlrdJKbt<:ir-<l by my lund. 
'. I pluck, 
ii-bod. I 1 



p., 
pia. 
bk* haild. 1 rL-^i>l«..i ill grtrd. lia ol bio<.'Ui.U^ 

ro««>«, t'«ianiuniiJ, verlxnaa, and their kindred 

i by the tulluri-si'jj hand. I went 

foreflt and saw llic »lld (lower 



iirouglit me uud r an opprt-Miuti i iuuK«.-d uut 
for, and my heart said to God : " Il is jiood for 
me ttial I have been afHicted, for now have I 
learned thy law." Yen, I rtjoiced with joy im- 
speakable and full of glory. 

I couM ticarly soe. as a rewilt of that iiiiion. 
that my i. ■-»..!. I u- ts then U.o sp'rit of a Ivciler 
man in i v world, ai d myself a beasr 

woman i y. Aod I doubled not that 

when all iho cviitU.ued, and ever mult. plying in- 
Hijfn(v>s of Marv's lif»< and dca'h in the strone 



join With mo 

and for h 8 W' : 

men. 

I have not loit my intertal in the welf-re of 
the moiherloiw childr n. I am i • 

and know that ihey Rre bt 



ver ti.e nv 
t ) then II' 
Jci.ov.io !r^<iu ihfcijo wor.ls: " !•• 
that T am (iod." It was that ; 



h. 

lo . 
li;. 

is now oy ^uicioui act; unU Ui^il nere Oivy may 
hear of Jesus who invit« s the weary and heavy- 
ladfD lo come to him for rest. 
" God si>otd the right." 



u> bv rvpt^iit'-o vi, locii lht*ir iii-'U>tir'<> prttvcrd to 
God, and t> tho woTun who wn» lo 8ii.<H'«d her, 
will hav,- vid in 

tears wil 

1 — ■! 

w.' 

vvi _ 

louitiy than did Hip mau wiioni 1 iii.r 

as he dealt to ihetu iu retail trade. 1- 



74 



A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 



found more regular and temperate in their habits, 
or more prompt and punctual in deal. Therefore 
did he transmit to his heirs a natural capacitv 
for beinsf greatly good. It only remains that 
this heritage be sanctilied by tlio word of God 
and prayer, to secure to him a seed like Jacob's, 
in which t'le nations of the earth shall be 
blessed. 

He never, but once, interfered in my govern- 
ment of my chiWren, aijd th^it was only to say: 
" You must be c 'refid how j'oa treat that child, 
( Mary,) or I shnll take her from you " Oh ! how 
big -with prophetic meaning was every word of 
tbat sentence ! Bat now I view him in a light 
which shows him that all Scripture is profitable 
to furnish us thoroughly for our work on earth; 
that it is good to bear the burden in south; that 
it is the parent who refuses to correct, that hates 
his child ; and that no man can iiate ids wife, and 
not hate his own flesh. I view my Mary, who 
said to Miss Julia Roys, " No one knows what I 
suffer. It seems to me that my father does not 
ctre as much for me as for his other children;" 
in the presence of One who ever knew what and 
why she suffered, and wh'^re f^he no longer 
doubts the love of her earthly father ; for who 
hath much lorgiven the sime loveth muco — I 
TieiV her as speaking to me ni the language of 
the poet : 

" I walk 'mill the palm-trees, 

And drink of the rills, 
That on earth are but types 

Of what God here fulfills. 
The joys of my childhood. 

How dim they appear ! 
Tes, dim are the brightest, 

When loolied on from here. 

" Then stay not, then mourn not, 

Then yield not to fears ; 
The flowers love hath planted. 

Oh ! steep not in tears. 
There's beauty, there's blessing. 

On earth left for thee ; 
But bid me not share them ; 

There's more here with me." 

Not only were my eyes feasted with the beau- 
ties April 12th yielded, on Florida soil, but my 
worn nerves were soothed as with a pleasant 
opiate, by inhahng a Florida aimosphere ; and / 
assisted thereby to accomplish that almost impos- 
sible th ng for me, •' take life easily, or be lazy." 
In the mouth of two or three witnesses, qualified 
to judge, may a truth be established. My mother 
and my phrenologist agree with me that the se- 
verest school of my life, independent of outward 
forces, has been to bend my luill. to labor down to 
my power. While under ray mother, I had the 
wise counselor, but when I s-iid to my husband, 
"I would gladly have prepared something in ad- 
dition for dinner, had I been able," and he con- 
temptuously replied, "I see no inability to do 
any thing you tiave a disposition to do," I knew 
better than he could know, how hard had been 
the struggle to obtain the disposition to say ; 
God's will, and n)t mine be done. Had he had 
faith in me, as when he manied me, he might 
have believed a truth he could not see. With 
my tendency to excess, I had attained to the age 
of twenty-eight years without receiving a pre- 
scrip'ion from a physician's hand ; and have no 
recollection of evt-r taking so much medicine as 
a cathartic, till twenty years of age, when my 
mother administered a potion of rhubarb to re- 



lieve the neuralgia, produced by over-exortion, 
during the third summer of my teacher labors. 
There is a day coming when it will appear how 
great lias been the cost in money to my husband's 
house, (setting aside physical suffering and that 
of the wounded spirit,) for attempting to place 
me in circum.'tances that shotild compel me to 
work. Tlie first summer of my htisband's ab- 
sence from me, in a letter to our boy, under date 
of 24th August, 1849, he asks: 

" What does your mother find to do this sum- 
mer? Is she pretty industrious?" 

I will give to the reader an answer to that in- 
quiry in another section of this chapter. 

Another advantage I enjoyed on Florida soil, 
was that of calling upon a strong servant to im- 
part power to my right arm, when I felt its 
strength partially withered, by rubbing it with a 
foreign hand, until it seemed restored whole as the 
other. Here was explained to me the law by 
which Mary's hand arose to her father's lips in 
silent praj^er for that last kiss, in the hour when 
he commenced to weep bitterly. By this service 
I gained a power which has enabled me to teil, 
through the pen. the truths God has led me to 
learn, by communing with him in prayer, and 
studying his word, his works, and his ways. 

But Florida, with its beauties in March and 
April, and its balmy air, wafting the porhime of 
the sweet jessamine and the orange-blossom, 
has, in common with all other lands in and out 
of Christendom, its fallen, suffering humanity. 
And I am compelled to say that the scene which, 
of all others there, took hold of my heart's deep- 
est sympathies, was a company of' emancipated 
negroes. Their master had died, and their wid- 
owed mistress had taken up her abode in the city, 
and left them with a piece of naked land, to draw 
from it their sustenance in the worn-out stage of 
life. Tlie only complaint of a hard fate which 
fell upon my ear from negro lips, wms from one 
of thes-'. And when the desolate motlier spoke 
of her children away, I told her that I too was a 
mother; that death had taken from me one of 
my chilli ren, and that I was a thousand miles 
from the other; but I could still pray God to 
IJess him. Then this mother asked mo to pray 
for her. Such a request never fell upon my ear 
from negro lips at the North, much as I have la- 
bored for and with them. But at the time I, 
with others, publicly professed faith in Christ, 
there stood in the same company a negro, (Har- 
mon Cooley,) who, a few years later, died so tri- 
umphantly in the Gospel faith, that Dr. Ticknor 
of Salisbury, Ct., (an old and professedly pious 
physician,) was heard to say that he would give 
the world to hive his hopes of heaven as bright 
as were Harmon Cooley's. Yet I was told that 
Harmon Cooley was a bond-servant (slave) in 
early life, and never learned to read the printed 
page. Let the man whom God has made a negro 
be lionored as such. Let the foolishness bound 
in his heart at the birth, be driven from it in early 
life, and let him read animate instead of iiiaaimate 
characters (for so has God endowed him) while 
he W'U'ks willingly with his hands; and look to 
God instead of man to explain why he was made 
a little lower than the order of intelligent beings 
who are ordained to be masters in American 
houses. It is said of Sheffield that her propor- 
tion of negro population is greater than almost 
any other town at the North. I have labored in 



A MOTIIEKS PEACE OFFKKIN<i. 



to 



lif r T 



Wll. 


iippoiut; aud to hu name bo all tbe glory. 


•an.- 

tioD. t.c(. .-. ., 

Whiloof all th 


11. 




who d{K>8 not iii'i- r..i.!, i," .- ai.niii'T --wi'ii <x- 


KKCTIO.S V. 


CT'ptiOU. 1 




,<..-!♦' !l,..r .,<■ 1,,^; .), iM.r t., T \f -J 


I w II. 1. now turn II. V .itt. nll'.n Immmw r'ii;r t!io 


H..\ 


ule tomvi 


mil 


;-■>•• .Vti'l 


dr.. 


v;.<j 


int. 


. r: 


liii 

rill 


S.Z^tc.^^.l^-''^^^ 


Wt ' 


ClIAhLKb 11., 


jMr. ■ 




J..- I 1 


F, .Tank. 


Ski. leoti- 


VI'., 


Whu V.-lS ;i Lalivc lii li. 


. lA, 


fttthcr from tho land of 


].K\ 1, 




Ki.iZAiimi, 


and ' ■ ' ' ' 




{!{), 


.Iambs A., 


of y. :. .; . 


.I-HV K., 

■ >: B., 


for them. \S hen 1 hud ; 


in pirin^ my rip'n'.'n xo ; 


;.SK, OR AXGIK, 


wi' ul.ilf 




mil lh:it 




W : 




IC 


I '^\.TIIKR, MOTHER, 


fut'. 




UIi 


ASl> 


under the iu%v. ui. 


SISTERS. 


A •e'^-^nd • ■>' po- 




lite . ip-u lu I i.i'-i;ij, hij in 




ill- :ii of bond service will 






Anleep In Jejiui ! Oh I how sweet 


?" 


To be for «uch b tlumber meet ! 


I not countenanco nfglecting 




to f ri. .hiv, t'r. . 1 li i:\T that 




to: 1: le^t 




thr if tho 

fill. ! I be 


Levi Roys. Aged 78, 1857. 


di- .' wlio 


TnANKn.-L Ci-RTis-S, Wife ot 


lei: 


Lbvi Ruts, Aged H 1 841. 


CJli 

ta: 

Cm 

lik. 


PAMELI > '"« ol 


GlOKOK \V. Si i 40, 1S.')5. 


Her Gnive in k- nki.K, Iowa. 


all 


i.izABKTii Rots, Aged 30, 1850. 


W 


licr (travo in Avoyelles, La. 


tlT • .,...-. 




th.. 




1 • ■■ i.r.>- 




phecy, when imrt or d> 


A neat, whU*^ marblt', in ."^ ' ■ ■'• 


God'-" h'}r iTv 1 wtcn th-i' 


Kverj^-en (Vjmeterv, hii.x tlic llr ■. 


11' 


tionsupon its fac<>, nnd the sceona ujx.n u» i>.»cK 


ti. :' 


1 


to • 


I .._..l, I' .... „■:.■., 1 ., -v;'',. W, ,!,;,•« \l!,i. XI-,. nr 


mi 




Km 


■ , _■ ■ 


» k itie boods of prejudice, and 


1 ID the V f >ol ol J 


set 


1 M^nntn .^!)i'»,> "n ■ 


I l ok i;>r '' 'ly Ppirit i. 




tako of the t - and j<hci.' 
t!: 




ill 

n-v.-... v.. . ,. , 





76 



A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 



the same town ("Wallingford) went Jonathan Cur- 
ii?f, with his possessions tied in a handkerchief, 
ar;d consisting of other commodities than bank- 
notes or specie. But he had a knowledge of 
agriculture and of liou«e-building. He pur- 
owaaed n tract of land in N. W. Sheilielcl, where, 
with honest industry and a spirit of enterprise 
worth}' all praii^e, he built for himself a place 
and a name He married Mary Jacobs, of Ver- 
mont. Her lineal descent has been traced back 
to the first governor of Mass Her brother 
Richard, itinerant clergyman of the Methodist 
Church, (of which she was a communicant,) was 
drowned while fording a stream in company with 
one who could not swim. After constructing a 
r.itt, Mr. Jacobs loaned his hor-e to his neighbor 
and look the raft because he could swim ; 
but by some means became disabled, and at an 
hour whtn he looked not for the event, landed 
on ''the .shining shore." Her brother Steven 
became Judge of the County Court. On her mar- 
riage !-he was endowed with a lady's ridiug-iiorte, 
a sum of money, and a condition on the part of 
her husb><nd that she should ever be allowed to 
keep a horse to take her to vis t her father's 
house. My mother was the second of the six 
daughters reared by this pair. She had three 
brothers, all older than herself; She had beauty, 
wit, and song. She man led before she was 
eighteen jeanj of age. I inquired of her why 
she married so young, and she gave the followiog 
solution : Her f^xther carried on a great business, 
which kept many men about him to be served, 
and he thought that woman's work was nothing. 
Hfr mother was feeble, and her elder sister 
married when my mother was ten years of age, 
leaving her the chief miid-servant. She served 
faithfully, but was not appreciated. Her father, 
in the pressure of business upon his hands and 
rnind, could not understand woman'.s real wants. 
Her mother, through not being understood, was 
compelled to resort (through protracted visits) to 
her father's house, and her church, for the solace 
which sensitive, suffering humanity must have to 
enable one to be.ir up under a burden of responsi- 
bilities too great to be barne without foreign 
aid. 

My mother married a man nine years her 
senior, who, by honest industry, had a few hun- 
dred dollars in store as his own. Sojn after 
their marriaga, my grandfather Roys desired 
them to live with him, and take care of himself, 
wife, and mother. My mother had a blending 
of her lather's ambition and her mother's deli- 
cacy; but having become weary of serving an 
ambition to be lich, she became ambitious to 
make her home attractive. And I hazard no- 
thing when I make a public declaration before 
the uuiltitudes who dwelt in her house, or par- 
took of her hospitality, that no woman ever suc- 
ceeded better in such undertaking. She revtred 
her tiMtural lather as an honorable man of intel- 
ligence, indu^t'y, enterprise, and success ; but 
she admired the faitb, patience, and cheerfulness 
of the father and mothers of the house into which 
phe had married. The praises of her grandmother 
Eunic ) were ever upon her lips, as she enter- 
tained her children with stories of the past. 
The old lady .slept with the fa'-hers at the age of 
ninety or more, saying that ber prayers th--it God 
wouid give her neitlier poverty nor riches had 
ever been answered. Probably tiiis woman ol 



strong faith desired for her children the same 
blessing she asked for herself. But the hand of 
the diligent maketh rich. My grandfather found 
himself in possession of means to pu: chase a 
farm adjoining his own, which came into market 
in this manner: His neighbor Mr. Il'gby died, 
leaving a widow and small children, in an age 
when the body of the dead man was taken for 
debt until friends came forward as surety for 
pay. The father of the widow (Mr. Abraham 
Burrell) became surety, took the widow and 
children to his own home and cared for them, 
and sold their farm to my grandfather, giving 
him a warranty deed. Mr. Burrell was a rich 
man, and all was congidertd secure. When my 
grandfather liad owned and improved the land 
"between thirty and fbity years, the Higby heirs, 
haviug found tlie deed by which their father 
received his title to the farm among the papers 
their father left, sued for the land. Mr. Burrell, 
to save expense, had d spensed with legal ad- 
miuistration before he conveyed the land, and 
now he was dead. It only remained to sacrifice 
the libd, or stand a suit at law, knowing the suit 
must fail, in order to be empowered to come back 
upon the estate of Mr. Burrell, deceased, to ob- 
tain the warranted satisfaction. My grandfather 
gave my father power of attorney to act for him ; 
and at the time of my birth my father was en- 
gaged in a study entirely foreign to any thing 
tbre-ordaiufcd by liimself or friends, and which 
brought to himself wisdom at the expanse of 
much money ; for at the expiration of twelve or 
fifieea years, when a final decision and settle- 
ment were bad, the Higby farm was gone from 
the Roys' possessions, and the old h:>me3tead 
burdened with debts. Yet the faith of our 
Grandmother Eunicri did not forsake those who 
suffered through la'.k of sagacity in looking 
alter trtles to their earthly estate. Godliness 
hath promise of the life that now is ; and a 
man's life consisteth not in the abundance of 
the things which he possesseth. The siaff of 
life has never failed, nor the crystal waters 
ceased to flow at the Roys' homestead fince 
our forefather planted his dwelling there. This 
spot, now in the po-sossion of my elder brother, 
was the place where my husbaud asked that, 
myself and son might board at the time he left 
to execute his brother Bulkley's will in Cliicago. 
My brother told Mr. Little that he would allow 
us to have a home with him while his (Mr. L.'s) 
busiuess called him from town, at a charge of a 
dollar a week each. I took posssssi )n, hoping 
to be able by my services to make up trie defi- 
ciency of pay, but was prevented in ttie pro- 
vidence of God, through the severe illness ot my 
boy, and also finding that I had a diminution of 
pliysical power never beftira experienced when 
able to enjjy the society of friends. 

The truth was, that while my husband was 
prevented from earning his bread beciuse of a 
broken bone, I was disabled by reason of a 
broken heart. But this he could not see ; and 
as he had no faith in me, he could not believe. 
I must have solace fi'om a source wh-re I was 
understood, or go down to the grave. And the 
Physician to whom [ cried at the bedside of my 
languishmg Mary, when pai'alysis in the region 
of the heart, (as I nov/ clearly perceive it to 
have been,) brought relief to my then agonized 
nerves, Sicnt, in his providence, the needed 



A MOTIIKR's I'EACK OFFKUIXO. 



77 



rtmody. I wm thon, as unw, iiWa t" writ« a 

little tlnily o'li of ilio al 

nod lo fool Ihfti I hnil a 

Friend in Uio ]•■--■■ ■■> ■ 

ly beluvfd t<> n 

live. B«ni<lo, 1 

torcosMiou lor iti» ui: > tiad iiiao 

the briii'i f>f hint > : »li ••«» in' 

wound •« \ 

turo, dfp 

unti! •' 

IW 

1 ox; , i 

so well foiitmii, us nl tlio pr»i«ci.t lime, linre- 
fore have thoae wriUnf(5 waited to bo copied into 
thin iwc-tioa of my public f pistla I bad a female 
friend, wbn, in ountecret conimuuinvs, cxpre.sHed 
ix\u ■■ ' " '. '■ - • - ■ 

bo i 

inci.i- .... .,,.-,.. 

fcm hiT fuith l>cfi>re Uie world, by c( ininf: to the 
nrdioiii.cu<i of the Lord in u ('iirisiiHn eliurcb. 
She aAtrwiird told me thai «l.o decided to lake 
my advion, Hi.d TiBtum'lv addro^a^d a profo-sed 
I'liii- . il rtligijQ 

ua H rc of hav- 

ing .i.^ •„ (.1 .: .-. ,i, Mrs. Ltltlo. 

The ptr-..:i ati . d: •' Let Mrs. Littlo 

I>r8y . I . r ir. ^o very bigb." And 

Haid " inough I have loHt none of 

my < III you or ia God, I can not i^ 

any farii.v; toward entering your chiucb, for UUtt 
person waa one of i'a members." Xow 1 do not 
claim Ibat my prayers po b . ' ' ' • .Idim that 

flod cornea ao low a« to 1 • ivcr fir a 

rijiht Mpirit tbal poea out .......d lipn. I 

did not nsk the name of the person, nor did my 
friend nive it: bui when tho day of oommunion 
crtme, I mvij«e<l thus with myself: Ob I that il 
wore my priviloffo to (^ to the Methodist church 
and heiir Rov. Mr. Merci'ii. the .stran^'er who 
can lo k nt his hearer with an unprt-judicod 

min'f ' ■ ' •■' ■>■'-<-•■'•■■ .-.,.■ 

the ! 

in m 

Sabbaiti-iay. And lrii.>*lin|f that my conacicnce 

was enlij^litened by t)"" word and npirit of God. 

I wei't lo tho y. Jircb, one fourth of a 

mile from the ' nl. on whow Iwt my 

...-., , . . ■ . , jij^j 

rta- 

- , ii(d 

the way ' nunicaiiona to wj paator, 

which I V •*. 

THE UARTYK OP 1840. 

The rear 1849 op«ne<i upon a child of "ten 

years" in m .i .ri-..i,. ,! r..-i,, •,..,.,. . i, , .-„. , 

lering, 111 <■ 

in other t 

which Can Uul bo pi ■ with tt.e ►kiii j 

of a divine hand. vn* a I trb of ' 

I'hrial'a (luck gathercl i > 

chu'ch**. Sbo wa.1 ihcri 

amid th" flamos of n • - 

the moiher. That r: 

survived this more tl. 

lliat she mar plead \n 

of this horrid deed 

and G«xl only, bnvo //u., sii.iuJ, wii.i-..' cosuhiiica 1 

elTorta have effected the premature death of her I 



I llmt-bom, hf r only and dfarlv hrloTcd d«n(r*l*r. 



<vvu to pi«T ila 

•iMl •b-v aball 

idno. 

l)t« 

iu- 

tba 

utftr 

I c'immunicatca, that ihoy wiii utnto wi'ii ntr in 

I prayer lo God for all those who have iu any 

way aided in thia work of murtyrdom, tbia «!«y- 

1 inK of a ctUisctTBled lamb, Uiat Ihey, tbrouKh 

' ' ' inted to the Lamii c>f God 

•• sill of tho World for the 

. .„ . ... d all iheir Bin* 

iiretbren and mxiora of the Amoriiiin churchef, 
tbia ia a fact, and no liolion. God is my only 
witDcaa. AHk of him and he will grant the saiic- 
liou of hia approbatioQ. 

A MoTUKK, 
Sorrowing yel greatly rtjoicing. 

Tho foregoing iH.''iihmil(od to my mncti beloved 
pastor, with a reniipat that be will pnocrfully 
c«)tJ8'der i' • can then judgu best, for- 

ward Witt iiion for publication iu ibo 

American .'. 

Yes, Mary bath truly fallen a martrr. Tho 
family where she has lived and ;■ ' ^m a 

regard to reputation ) would nev' m-d 

tbia work ol haired so far as the;. had 

not a eloak been held up to scr*" i the 

eye of human observation. A r > ro- 

ooive and propagate iLo reprtjeeuliiioua given, 
hss couiitenuuctd and eno. iirac'ed the work. 
It has pointed every eye 1 '.•♦to the 

iiiiagnitil wiiiug which a -: ^vnuld in- 

tlicU It baa ft "' ' • il«'4vea's 

troiu the real iiHifned. 

This cloak ha.-* ; , IJ up hy 

those who have disregarueu tno^e plain hnd nim- 
plo yel all-important commands of (Jod : ".\void 
evil-si>eaking, ' and "Judge not,'' or condemn 
not without evidence. Among the number who 
have - - < t' • ,,1 the work of deaih 

are with Ihe t'l.u'ch of 

the ; _ . . .. h where tsia vicliin 

was ctMiaecraUd, aiid Iroin vni.icli her death ro- 
moved her; the cliureh where the niittor, for 
whom she has laid down bt r life, paid I e^ ear- 
liott vowa; th« Phiiffb wbi<h hs* had this moth- 
er'a ." yens 

but : ..oK 

fe!t t.i . , , .,,. ,,,-. , ,.,. , 

-liui out. I fiel jiisiilied in a* 
(ri.m tho commuiiioo. I feel 
small voice" which has long .'■eimeU so eiose be- 
hind me, spying, " This ia the way, wsIk ye io 
It," baile mo do so. 

I a-k your prayer-. God wiU surely listen In 
reference to a case whidi is ao exclusively at his 
own dispoiMil. 

Another coronxinicatioQ to my pasior has tho 

:Ml.<iwiug : 

W. TO my view- th, or mv f4i'h 

Uko lb it of the .- . <iory o. Mury'a 



78 



A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 



suEferingg and death, aa known to myself, would 
rend my soul with agonies and distraction. But 
I view the hand of Abraham's Gtod in all, and I 
rejoice with joy unspeakable. I know that she 
shall see of the travail of her soul, and be satis- 
fied. I feel that I have labored with much sor- 
row and heaviness of heart for ten years to bring 
my child into the kingdom of heaven ; but from 
the moment she took po^-session of her Father's 
house, I have remembered no more my anguish, 
for jay that I have given to that world a blessed 
inhabitant. This, my joy, has been constantly 
increasing, as her powers and faculties are there 
unfolding to the admiration of the members of that 
blissful family. I confidently expect to behold her 
there as the " first-born" among many brethren. 
I teel tlia"; my gifts and eodovvments, small and 
imperfect ihougti the3'- are, are more unreservedly 
consecrated to G-od. If I rightly construe the lead- 
ings of his providence and his Spirit, he is asking 
my prayers and my pen. And this, for the pre- 
sent, seems all I have to bestow. To you, sir, I 
look as a spiritual g\iide. I a-*k your prayers 
and counsel. I ask that you will examine tlie 
inclosed communication t) Rev. Mr. Bullard, and 
if it meet your approbation, that you will for- 
ward it. 

From another I extract the following : 

I have felt constrained to present my expe- 
rience of God's faithfulness to such as may be 
able to receive it, to lead them also to trust hsm. 
While erg-iged in this work I was providentially 
led to speak to a youth who has graduated, and 
is commencing preparations for a profession. I 
give you to read his replies, thinkmg they may 
induce you to pray the Lord of the vineyard to 
bring ?iis talents and his service into his vine- 
yard. I have a desire to copy the germou 
preached on the day of Mary's burial, with such 
omissiorrS as are needful. There was, in tiie 
case of the two individuals referred to, a total 
dissimilarity in age, but I ju^ge not in character. 
The most beautiful exemplification, in character, 
of that principle of faith which works by love, 
purifies the heart, and overcomes the world, ever 
presented to my view, was in the life of Mary. 
I can not judge with accuracy how far you, dear 
sir, are prepared to receive my testimony. But 
of this I am confident, what you know not now 
you shall know hereafter. 

I am yours, etc, in the bonds of Christian love, 
L. J. Little. 

Rev. J. Bradford. 

P. S. — Please return these papers at a time 
suited to your own convenience. L. J. L. 

The papers were returned by my pastor in 
silence, and during the remainder of his life, no 
allusion was ever made to them. Thus was there 
an intimation to me that the God of the everlast- 
ing covenant would have me keep silence before 
him. Sj much as I did write was doubtless from 
the game kind of constraint as that which once 
led our Saviour to say: "If these should hold 
their peace the very stones would cry out." 

After Mary's death, my husband's fir.st ex- 
pressioQ, as the tears streamed from his eyes, 
wrts: "She was a sweet, considerate child." 
He said, on the day of her burial : " I do not 
think Mary could have been induced to do any 



thing she thought to be wrong." From that 
time, I can not recall that he ever spake any 
thing concerning her. His letters show the 
same. I proceed to copy some correspondence I 
had during 1849. when my pen uttered out of 
the abundance of my heart: 

1849. . . . Tet such was the character 
of her whom I loved with the strongest and 
deepest love of kindred of which my nature is 
capable. I confidently expect to spend a bli.ss- 
ful eternity in her society, rejoicing with her that 
our gracious God blessed me in making me in- 
strumental in molding this character ; a blessing 
compared with which earthly thrones and king- 
doms sink into insignificance; a blessing which I 
have not purchased, liave not earned; a blessing 
which I secured by accepting the invitation 
given to every one : " Come, buy without money 
and without price. ' Whatever providence may 
permit to befall me ere I cross the Jordan oi 
death, I have the earnests of that blessedness in 
my soul, and can not doubt its realization in joys 
such as my heart is now incapable of conceiving. 
Had I been infiueuced by mcitives as selfi-ih and 
worldly as may ap;)ear to those who look only 
to the outward man, far diilerent would now be 
my experience. My judgment is with Him who 
searches the heart, in whose hand is my destiny, 
whose I am, and whom I serve. 

The following I copy from the letter to my 
b.'"othtr, containing the retusal to grant hia dis- 
charge fioin the U. S. service: 

1849. 

" Virtue, the strength and beauty of the sou], 
Is the Ijest gift of Heaven ; a wealth 
Tliat ne'er encumbers, nor to baser hands 
Can be transferred. It is the only good 
Man justly boasts of, or can call his own. 
Riches are oft by guilt and baseness earned. 
But for one end, one much- neglected use, 
Are riches wortli our care. 
This noble end is, to produce the soul. 
To show the virtues in their fairest light. 
And make humanity the minister 
Of bounteous providence." 

It ocoiars to me, dear brother, that He who 
leadeth the blind in a way that they know not, 
who is both far and deep sighted, sees it best for 
you to remain upon a man-of-war in time of 
peace, within sight, as it v/ere, of the gold which 
would assist you in carrying out your favorite 
schemes, that your soul may, as in the furnace, 
be refined, strengthened, and beautified, before 
you shall be permitted to clasp those richea 
whieh show the virtues in their fairest light. It 
is the nature of mankind to be unreasonable at^d 
selfish. True, our selfishness works through 
different channels, according to our predominant 
propensities, but is one and the same principle 
still. This priaciple may be stifled, and kept 
within certain bounds by our own efforts. But 
it is never slain except by that power which 
works wittiin us a new nature, which creates 
the man anew in Christ Jesus. The new birth 
and attainments in hohness are an especial favor 
of God, conferred upon those only who seek in 
his appointed way. The principle of selfishness, 
though overcome, is not entirely slain in the 
Curisiian, even, until he arrive at the stature of 
a perfect man in Christ Jesus. And as mankind 
are a community where a mutual dependence is 



A MOTIIEll'S PEACE OKFKRING. 



79 



il exJHt lu I proiti-h Jurcii' 



ninning through the witole. uod wh«ro thin prin- | attetition; and atmll I not ray jour inifii/<ii(if<r nt- 

ciplo in tnoro prfd"-? ■ • ■ "^ ' •- •■ • ' ■■ ■ ■■ ^ ■ • •• ' • •>•- 

oit.cnt, li'>w iurf.«< 
k)oar witli uiiri'H*'!. 
tint pluco, uiiri'a«toiiNbi«< 
•uch n ■•...-!!, nwi in • 
thr. 
co>; 

U) 
f.Xi 

8CV. do 1 vgli. 

leu- I lir.t if T 

tako bitvii u 
duuifhicr had ' 
hi- 

fyr 

tno.>v .. 

dure. 

milting ' 

eteniit^, how obail we uduuru ntd uduru i 

To Uio jouth aboTe alluded to : 

IS49. , . . Pr- ' ' 

stand that Tou are <; 

of law. I take the 

your wcl are, of n • to 3our ndice 

the workH of a ver. lor, one wiio hns 

framid many of the n.^K-^i i;i4>ortaiit and UHefui 
laws: likewiHo, of aiikifi(r voii id atlopt h» h 
mi ' ' ' 

an 

hia ; ^. 

ance nith yo'j, ihBt 

and fcehiiti that I 

vidoala above alluded to, I yifiU lo iiiu mdiua- 

tionn of my henrt. «!•'! prp«<»nt th''^ st!bi<»<'t to 

yoi; 

in - 



l<'{x. UiMllCU lur |>ilsl liiS(>)>V<iil.Ml 

in lii< Si>n. Yifid v. npjflf <>■ 



Loni wiil be your guide, your counselor, and 
your delight L J. L. 

TO A re MALE FRirSP. 

1619. 
My DbauGirl: Ifoci coni'trninod, 

rii.M. 11,,. lovo 1 l>orey..ir ,i. . .n, ,1 .;.t. r ,. ,i iv,» 
I il'ol in her 
' you upon 
Uiiiiiiiig. Prom thu lacl luai uo Uiniiy iiiur is 
ffif ted in pithpr of hor home", if nt'P' ■"^' (<> nif> 



thr 

fin : 

cat! 

of . 

iho AuiLor Lit y >ur cxi.-^Kt.cc, and "J" uli ; 

created. lo your own fiarae. so cu'iou."! 

wonderfully wrought, and in lU principle o: i :e, 

which 

'• <'ont«ln« K hninlr<«fl njirine-". 
I diet If one be gonv ' 



iii>'i i' I.'.' r II. 
word, and to ! 
in I r.i-,. r 1 



inuii- "; 
i(? heart T 

'III*: i .4 a 



Y. •. ■ ■ 

cut 
wi:. 
aii'i 
da- 
mn' 
nn'i 
in I 
ho : 

On.' ... 
child of 
and is u 

justified or a'.<|ii.tu.'U l<>r 
But th"? p^at .riif1cf»<f i! 
thi- 
cot; 



d. lie has or- 
mind. Tl, i i 
lu to tho i 
• > eqi)n!«. 



the iiiw. 
;rt where 



\iiu to j.roctt..!, lV>r iu duo tvasun you 
if you fuiut not. L. J. L. 

The youngvst two of my mother's dnuffhtcfs. 



: wnil 
It hv 



tcUtjLlDg. 



I next copy a Utter addr«ascd to tin- ,>.'ii ig....), 
from Mnrv's »ick>room : 



Tu. 
Pear 



Offvl'r.i I .ur ' 

pronounonl. ^ 

you as having a ; . .. ,. 

your own to be disiXMied oi which demands your i 



•h. 1348. 
r noon the 



the intervals in which she gets a little repom by 



80 



A mother's peace offering. 



sleep, in answer to yours to her which came to 
hand on Saturday last. You ask her to* write; 
hut, alas ! she has not so far recoverei the 
strength of her eyes as to allow of her reading a 
sentence. Now I can not have sufficient light 
in her room through the day to enable me to 
read or write. I told her on Saturday I liad a 
letter for her from you, and asked her if she 
could hear it read. She replied, "Not to-day;" 
and she has not since asked a question about it. 
I mention this to give you an idea how sick she 
is. Poor girl 1 She has before this been greatly 
afflicted, but was never so great a sufterer as 
now. Liltle Charlie thinks it hard to stay from 
Jtfary's room, or to bo as still as is necessary, for 
she is very sensitive to noise of any kind. He 
came to the door, a day or two since, and handed 
me a paper he had folded. I thanked him, being 
desirous of dismissing him as soon as possible; 
but he soon came back to the door with a request 
that I would send it to Aunt Lib. He frequently 
asks if Aunt Lib and Linealine will not come 
back tliis sunnuer, and weeps when told they 
will not. Olive is doing the house-work, and I 
have two beds in the south room. So you will 
perceive we are more comfortably situated to 
take care of the sick than last winter. 

L. ;T. L. 

The Thursday before Mary sickened, slie 
walked to a neighbors for the last time, to which 
reference i'^ had in the following extract from a 
joint letter to my sisters in Maryland, in the 
summer of 1819 : 

Her countenance was pale, but expressive of 
a glowing intellect ; her eyes sparkling with ani- 
mation; a crimson flush sat upon her clieeks. 
She was clad in a green caslmiere dress made 
from Angeline's, a pink apron presented her by 
Lucretia, and a pla'd silk hood from Angeline's 
parasol-cover, lined with cherry red. I am sure 
I never saw her so beautiful at any other time. 
Mary had not external b-. auty; but the beauties 
of her mind had fixed tlioir impress upon her 
countenance. Could I present you a correct 
daguerrtotype likeness of her appearance at that 
time, it would be highly giatifying. But, my 
dear sisters, we have ouly to wait that glorious 
morning when she shall awake from the peaceful 
slumber which has come over her, a child of 
"ten years," the same in hight, in shape and in 
feature, arrayed in glorious robes, with a counte- 
nance heavenly and divine, and with " imperish- 
able " stamped upon her nature. Yours, dear 
A., was the first infint head over wliich I poured 
the fervent prayer, after my own espousals to 
Christ. I then thought I loved you with a love 
that a mother's could not exceed. But no; 
there have since been disclosed to me deeper 
fountains of love in my lieart than ever before 
were fathomed. But the dear, cherished object 
has beeu, by the great and unerring Householder, 
removed to a happier home than I could furnish, 
where love is unmingled and unceasing. Per- 
haps He may mercifully order that you shall yet 
perform the kindly ofQces of daughter and sister 
to my bereaved self and child; that j-our hand, 
as in 

" Filial love, shall close 
My eyes in tlieir last sleep," 

* when my spirit soars to a reiinion with the 
loved and departed, in that world where sorrow 



and mourning are unknown. Be your soul pre- 
pared by grace divine for these or any duties or 
events unerring wisdom may appoint you. Y"ou, 
dear B., wrote one j'ear sioce of your pupils 
mingling their te?irs with j^ours, in sympathy for 
Mary when shut out fi'om the light of the natur- 
al sun, and all those pleasant objects' whose 
sight delights the soul. But had you known the 
truth, and proportioned j-oar sympathj^ to the de- 
gree of joy or wretchedness experienced — 

The finishing of the sentence is not upon paper 
in my possession. 

To show that God gave me solace through 
other channels than his word and Spirit, I copy 
from my correspondents : 

BnooKLTN, N. Y., January 25th, 1849. 
Deah Mrs. Little : I sincerely sympathize 
with you in your affliction, though my feelings 
are mingled with the deepest self-condemnation 
at the tliought that had I been more persevering, 
or more self-denying, thecliange of climate whieh 
you sought as a means of restorii^ig health might 
under God have been successful, and Mary have 
been long spared a blessing to the world, and a 
source of comfort to her now bereaved mother. 
God has wisely concealed from us the knowledge 
of future events, and left us to be guided by prin- 
ciple, and to leave results with him. Y^ou ex- 
press much gratitude for favors received during 
your short and to me pleasant visit with us. If 
I was instrumental of imparting pleasure or hap- 
piness, I am grateful for the opportunity. 1 have 
often put the question to myself: Wliy, when I 
lingered as it were, upon the confines of the 
grave — why was I raised agaiu to health ? I felc 
at the time that perhaps my heavenly Father 
spared my life, that I might be tlie instrument of 
leading others to that Saviour whom I profess to 
love, and whose sufferings I thouglit that I in 
some measure appreciated. But the world has 
had a strong hold upon my affections, and I have 
done little to advance the cause of the Redeemer. 
Yet why trouble you with a recital of my own 
private feelings, when your heart is bleeding and 
broken ? Neither will I presume to point you to 
a source of consolation, for you learned the true 
source long ere I Icirned to bow in submission to 
the will of my heavenly Father. You ask me to 
pray that the sufferings of the loved and lost may 
be the means of salvation toothers of her family. 
Gladly i^ill I do so, thankful that we are invited 
to come to a throne of grace and ask for spiritual 
blessings upon those near and dear to us. 

Cordelia. 

Hamptox, Va , March Cth, 1849. 
Dear Mr.s, Little: We have daily demon- 
stration that this is a world of change ; and 
though in looking back through a course of years, 
we may be able to trece the hand of an All-wise 
Provfdeuce, and see that in truth all thirigs work 
together for good to ourselves, yet there are 
changes that we fee! to be sore trials, and the 
cause of their necessity is vailed in darkness, 
which requires the utmost stretch of our faith to 
penetrate, so as to discern the afflicting hand. I 
have received, wiih lieart-telt sonow, intell - 
gence of the death of Consm Mary. I had pic- 
tured to myself the development of her charac- 
ter and the expansion of her mind, until in 
imagination she stood before me a woman of ran- 



A MOTHKU'S PKACE OPFEKINO. 



81 



capaHiliUeii and (nio^mmon nit liiii • uti*. »'\i rtiii>f ' Hhor.!d r»ll av! t'm t., tho >fi'ri*. rf j-pr^fr-.-irni 

upon nil willi . 

tor jr'X"l. h 

to 

Iki . 

Ui 

w. 

di: 

]y 

IIUI 

U) 
w> . 
uc 



ft)W Wty.'vis, ulUiT ^•^>i>(^ Ul> > 

tiie roouoiit. Ttiur« urti lu IIu:j 
It:.'. 

liT 

»K' 

iu e 

Ilk. 

bobokvivuvi-, aiiU liiiuiv « Vvty K"^ UivMbd i U> 

of doir!i» a(\ fw-rlinp* I'c bfi^. wiH he t-i PTm ' w) 



i iof 
voiir 



w-.- 
hu. 

Ml'. 

ma: 
i>p«nuiouf>, as 

aii'i 



liKLKX . 

SiiL^rik^Li), April, 1S49. 



I l.;ivc LioU.u.fj li ■ 


> copy ;'. 


1. \our 


beiietit, except a u. 


. er «lii 


1 1 witi 



be I 

iogd. lAit, luu (jfv^ liciil 



I * 

P» 

ar ' 
sell auu 
I fe^l <• 
of ' 
to 



to ; 

M ■•■■ 

T" • 

xhail ru4p. 

Ah I fkl^n, lh*t ImA, rr np^nitifr Monom, 

wl, ' ■ ■ 

pi.: 

fi., ; 

bl.. 

A'li 

Btid wii«ro ilie tiui - 

mor>» he ti»»tH 



DbaR Mli8. LiTTI.K . 1 r 



J.I* 



8l.' 

S;-.. . 

pr. .... 

t»ka uer to hiuisei', it pi e— wd iiiia Uiat she | dedcieuk U^ cut»>Mtl |>t 

6 



.'d, Uju'ovM* 



82 



A mother's peace offering. 



my faith." But even that is not answered, or if 
at al], so slowly, that it is imperceptible from day 
to day, and I m«y say from month to month. 
And yet when I look bfick to the mazes of dark- 
ness from which my soul has emereed since I 
iarst hoped for salvation through Christ, I feel 
that I do wronp: to say, I have made no progress. 
Tne opening of light upon my fouI has been as 
the gradual advancement of day fiom midnight 
darknef-s; and though now greatly obscute by 
mifts and clouds, when I compare my present 
s,tat9 with that which preceded and attended the 
liour of my conversion, I know that the Lord 
has done great things forme, whereof I am glad. 
What source of consolation would now be suffi- 
cient for me, had I no faith in Him who killelh 
aod maketh alive, without whose care not one 
spar/ow falleth to the ground ? I have also re- 
ceived, dear cousic, your letter bearing words of 
comfort to my now stricken heart: and I also re- 
collect other instances when by your presence and 
your writings you have proved yourself a minis- 
tering angel of morcy. For these kindnesses my 
deepest gratitude and warmest; affections ara 
yours. I feel the consolation which your words 
impart ; and be assured I find no disposition to 
murmur against the afflicting hand of my heaven- 
ly Father, who I know will do " all things well." 
'Tis true the blow was unexpected, most unex- 
pc-cfed; but 'lis equally true, my father's "labors 
and caves have b.;en enough." Yet could oi:e 
last embrace have been given, one partins: 
message been recrived I would then have laid 
my hand upon my mouth in uncomplaining 
silence. Sntl^ this most bi'tor portion of the 
cup I will drink, because prepared by the great 
Physician. Pray for me, tliat the design of this 
e7ent may not be lost upon my soul. 

Helen. 

To Miss A. C : 

My DJ'Jar Girl: Receive my t anks for those 
kind ofBcea designed to soothe the sorrows of 
my strickc-n heart. May some kmd spirit min- 
ister to your comfort in every sorrow. Suft'eiing 
is necessarily blended with earthly enjoyments 
as the fruit of disobedience. In every bitter por- 
tion of life's cup which shall be measured out 
to yoii, may ffiith discern the band of a kind aud 
skillful physician ; and may al) result in the life 
and lieahh of your soul in the Paradise of God. 
In the full assurance of faith and hope do I see 
that cherished object of my love already there, 
tastirog those subhma delights her pure and lov- 
ing Hpirit was fitted to enjoy. I fael that I can 
adopt the sentimtnt ei: pressed in the lines you 
gave me : 

" Now .severed is tlie tie : 
My dotins spirit earthward drew 
tVoin realms more pure aud high." 



April, 1849. 



Fiver your 



L. J. Little. 



Detroit, Feb. 18th, 1819. 
My Dear Sister: Your letter of the 17th ulti- 
mo, conveying the sad intelligence of the death 
of your b.:lovc-d Mary, has awakened my heart's 
deepest f^^elings of sympathy and sorrow. So- 
row that one who gave so good a promise lliat 
she would be a bles-ing to her friends, can be 
no more among them, and sympathy for you 
who in the providence of God are called upon 



to bear this heavy affliction. For her I think 
we need not mourn. She has left a world where 
the most fortunate have much to bear and much 
to suffer, and her pure spirit has gone back un- 
stained to Him who gave it. But I had hoped 
that she might live, that her young mind might 
be strengthened and molded by your tender 
care and teachings, and that in her society and 
her love you might fiod a solace for all the trials 
of your life. You have the pleasing reflection 
that your duties to her were well and faithfully 
performed; and young as she was, she saw be- 
yond the darkness of the grave the brightness 
of heaven. I shall never forget a conversation 
I overheard between Frarik Roys and Mary 
when they thought tl^emselves wholly unobsf-rv- 
ed. They ha.d been talking of their grandmo- 
ther and of her death, Vvhen Mary gave Frank 
a description of the place where all good people 
would go when they were dead, in language 
beautiful and simple, and with a manner and 
earnesiness peculiarly her own. So one after 
auolher of those we love is taken away, thus 
weakening the chord that binds us. to life. We 
had s^ct you a letter abour, the time your last 
was Wi'itten, little thinking that death had been 
there, making your heart and home desolate. 
Allow me to hope that you may use double dili- 
gence in protecting and restoring your own fee- 
ble health, that your strength ni«y be equal to 
its task. We are eiyoying the best of health, 
and still continue house-keef.ing at the place wo 
lirst rented. In view of the sickness whioh 
threatens Detroit, iu common with all our cities, 
on the return of warm weather, it we can secure 
a location in a more dry and healthy part of tho 
town, we shall remove in the cours3 of the 
spring. I regret to hear that father does not 
completely recover fiom the effects of iiis injury. 
We hope to liear favorably from him soon aud 
often, also from brothers and sisters, with their 
families. Can not you aud father make arrange- 
ment to visit Detroit some time next summer ? 
I think such a journey would be the best thing 
you could do to renew your health and strength. 
We would endeavor to make your stay here 
pleasant, and a ride across Lake Erie would be 
like sitting in your parlor and looking out upon 
a broad expanse of water. 

Dear Sister : Accept my sympathy, with 
that of your brotl-er, my husband, in your pres- 
ent afiiiction, for I feel that I can mourn with 
those that mourn, and weep with those that 
weep. Death is ever at our door, and we know 
not when he may enter, or whom he will first 
tear from uor embrace. But h's arrows are 
directed by a just and mercifil Saviour, whose 
mysterious ways we are not capable of cimpre- 
hending. It is indeed trying to part with those 
we love, never more to behold their faces on 
this side the grave; trjing to part with them 
in the morning of their life, when the prospects 
for theluture were as bright and flattering as 
was the case with your loved daughter ; but 

" 'Tis ever tims with creatures heavenly fair — 
Too finely framed to bide the brunt more earthly na- 
tures bear : 
A little while they dwell with us, blest ministers of love, 
Then .'^pre.'vd the wings we had not seen, aud seek their 
home above." 

The evidence you have that she was a child 
of grace, and that she is now enjoying the felici- 



A MOTHKR'8 PEACK OKKEIUNO. 



88 



lies of a bri({hlor world boyond iho romli ..f f.r 
human nuffcnu^, nfl ii<1h ymi uouitda'il 
lion. WImt it .-h— rri'.' t>^<»'it;tn, w» 

(•' ■■ 
h.. 

on ..,: i , ■ .1. - 

luriH V . ., and 1 f 

hitpwy :> ! ilioii wiiti . . , 

to part, i tiiiiik wiiti JaincH, lira it yuu ana i tug luu lu tio 
your fathrr r-tii mnkr it ronvoiiii nt l<> Ink" n ' hnvf* nn ijm 
j" • r, ic will I'l 

}■■ r,y l.uj.pi 

Vj ■■ • ■ u I lo i'» i:i< i> ' u. V. 

Very olV.ciiKi.aiely joiirH, 

.1 A . !»:i't 1 iKi.ii.Mi Ul)^ s 
MhS. L, J. LlTTLK. 



I. Tuv ii,(irii!tiK I r''»'t''"1 ^^'it*' 'f 



Uoy tio 

'•irf^ to 



lo Lim. 



NoRTUi-oiU, 1m (., iKc. Udi, 1;}4'J. 
My Dk^r FhlKwn: I rweived touib of Nov. 



b. 

r-- 

wliui ( ive faia moro a|<pn>piiiie ? 

May ll i .1 upoQ hu heart iu all lim 

loiif!iiiej<tt ui.i (^Tiof. and may ili) ir trulli bo 
vontled in bit ext>Ari>^i.('i-, aa I d'nilii not it wua 



tslnti; out littt tfVvuinic 1 am Muiiry ui wuik, 
tbercro-»» I hid it adieu and taka my p'n to 
(*;' i:d. I ebould dearly love to 

h' n while in your t\nwl roi>m, 

t .->avioijr, but wtre 

11 . : -. I would like lo 

x! >u ot mat "bouse not made with 

liM ll in the heavouF," ii.a^inuch as you 
havu otu'u tK>«n there in Hpirit, and beheld iM 

fibiuing iiihahiiniitM ; but, muAt of all, would I 

ask of ' ' . 
that I. 



buurl Willi a oeiiM} (t <ii.u d ^' utiue-a lu iniuig 
tlie nioul'i witli every goftd f >•■■? I heard Nfr. 
lirAdt'ord'a di- i 

is in honor : > 

hvr. • ■ ■ • ■ I 



po: : . - . y ■ 

iua; to i!it« iiiUfX ol promi.'-c', where w a mau.tion 
already |>repuri-d and uc- q d by the loved ol 
my ht-art, who la.st jeHr ' 1 me to the 

bouao of (fod on Thai. a. I tolice 



i< . 1. Yuu »ay that you 

\u.. ,0 evc9 of your brother 

Janien wiiu. lluw beautiful and kIu^uus the 
privi!»>ir" to H'^"e th" eyes which will not op*>ii 
n.' ' but when 

h UDvail U> I 

s I :. ..u i.a glory of L'.i^- n, . ,<>^- 

II I. 

I hIiiiII l:o fiijito Lhiuv to m<-»i vuu 
„■ A 

W if 

Ji' lO bltts.'U.d oi (jud tj our kil.iil'v.U ; 

It • M'B. L , in your prayers for 

kiri'ir. I, i. >a«) remember your friend, 

Eliza. 
Mrs. L. J. LiTTLF. 

Yec, to noon were Delilah's words, " Our toms 
will i-ivm come," veriticd! Hht- who had been, by 
t')i. linnio blow, heri'ft of father and mother in 

I' 
t 

i: 



w -t 1 be 

1 led. I 
aLaii proboi/iy v^iilo ul'l^ner at iuiuie, utikafl 
eom"t>iii'fr 'MiUv-kf-d for preveiit". Mr. Little 

N. Y.. I > "ta the 

. iuK and f' r.>llow- 

L J. L. 

I here introduce a leittr to t^e i^iMer ^b«ve 
addre-"""', wl'o will rr-tne more paU'fidfirly he 
f ' ll the corn ~ ■ f 

1 :i seemed ' 'i 

proj'Mii'- ii.iii'i : 



NouTHP'i-T 

r>R\IlF,ST KlI7.AI:KTH; 
to thee, in how many jo-, ■ 
psrlicipaied ! how have /.-. • 
llnwed thv hf nrt and evea al 



>:, 



u 
ov fr- 
ill the 

■ t 



fuiKe, li iiitii back vre Uiu loved 

cf hi.** . uway. 

SiiKrnEt.n, Deo. lOih. 1819. 



nuipv — It 
<»/rf, and i" 



next uiterrupted ; yet, knowmg tiiat il we put i ttiou sat nmgiii^ with Levi that old m^ng, with 
our trust in the God of Israel, all things will work | llie sad air which I luve so well, it aeemed to me 



84 



A mother's peace offertng. 



that I should never see thee agaia ; that I should 
uever hear that voice till I hear it with the 
voices of the redeemed. I v^ras sad for hcura 
after. How I wanted that likeness ! At that 
time, I had not Voe least idea of leaving Sheffield 
in monihs. Bat I came, and thy dear self hast 
taken flight to a Southern chme, far away from 
early friends. But we ihall meet again. Yes, 
dear Elizabeth, lime can not preveut us that hap- 
piness; no, though it take even life iu its all- 
gra^pi^g hands. 

In the few short weeks that thou hast been 
away, sad changes have tiken place at that dear 
spot called home. Truly may we say : "Clouds 
and darkness are around abouc his habitation !" 
I hope thou wilt try to comfort ihy brother in 
t'jis dreadful affliction. Say to him what none 
but a most loved sister can fay, and in that 
way that is so winning, so lovely — so thyself — 
and thou wilt be sure to give comfort. 

You wish to know how we like this place. 
The seaview is not half so pretty as that spring 
which flows so cheeringly through your father's 
door-yard. But there is good practice here for a 
doctor ; so we may stay lung. In your last, you 
told me about your school — your pupils. 1 liked 
the orphans under your charge. Do tell me more 
about them. 1 was interested iu them. Are 

they relations of Mr. or Mrs. W 's? Have 

ttiey neither father nor mother? Elizabeth 1 
howthey love you ! Li your next, tell me every 
thing that has taken place sif:ce I saw you. 
How I should like to hear you tell it ia your 
<iuier, sweet way ! 

It is getting late. I must close. May good 
angels attend tliee, as they have ever done. 
May hope never deseit thee. May happiness 
be always thy guest; and may health shine in 
the lustre of thine haztl eye, and iu the bloom of 
thy fair cheek ; and mayest thou never forget thy 
friend, Ei.iz.v. 

Eliza's summons was announcel as she sat 
listening to the " Queen of May," in the parlor 
at the Roys' homestead, where were assembled 
kindred ar.d friends on the occasion of Elizabeth's 
visit north, which proved her last. To the ad- 
vantages of her inheritance as a "sweet singer,'' 
Elizabeth had enjoyed the tra,iuing of an Italian 
vocalist at the Seminary, and such was the power 
of her song, that the skeptic was heard to say, 
" If the music of heaven be such as Elizabeth's, 
I desire a place there." Tlie seeming idea of 
Eliza's mind, as she sat listening to the sad air 
t-ho loved so well, because a UviiKj reaUty iu her 
life's history. 

Resort op Pataps(.!o's Daughters, 
Juue 18th, 1849. 
. . . . I am seated iu a very pleasant grove 
just back of the Ini-titute. It is the only one 
wiihin its bound?, and is consequently a great 
lesort for the young ladies. It is furnished witti 
seats, and there is also an excellent swicg with 
two sea's, so that six or eight can swing at a 
time. Just beyond the grove is a ground where 
the little girls have their fluwer-beds. The gar- 
dener prepares the grnund, and the girls nurture 
the plants. I cime here this mornmg, bringing 
my writing material?, tor the purpose of writing 
my composition, but as you sea I have changed 



my mind; for I feel more in humor for writing 
letters. I only wish that I possessed your powers 
of description, that I might give you some idea of 
the scene before me. I can see and point out its 
beauties, but can not describe them. I can only 
speak of hills and dales ; shady groves and se- 
cluded glens ; of cottages and churches, scattered 
here and there, giving to all a most beaut ful and 
diversified appearance. In every object I can 
trace the dngs^^rof God; f r whose haiid lait that 
of a Supreme Being could have formed this beau- 
tiful landscape ? The sweet birds resting on the 
branches of the trees above my head, are warb- 
ling their chorus of praise to .their Creator. 
May their example incite us to devote our lives 
to him. I received your ktter one week to-day, 
and much pleasure did the perusal aflbrd me. 
How much I wished that I might spend one 
morning with ytu in the maoner you describe! 
I Could well imagine how every thiug appeared. 
The spring, the old elm-tree, the chamber-win- 
dow, were brought directly to my view. But 
one who is associated in my mind wuh the scenes 
of cbildhood I sought in vain. One vacancy 
had changed the aspect (jf all else 1 Thoughts 
of the departed one will cast a shadow of sad- 
ness over aU, should I ever vh-ic the loved place 
again. 

Often do I stand and gaze upon the waters of 
the Patapsco, and think of the lime when she 
stood by my side on the banks of the noble 
Housatonic, or sauntered along its water's 
edge. Now those waters would rt fleet her 
image on my mind ! The past will never be for- 
gotten, and as those by-^oue days are again re- 
called, may I be profited ; and m*y my future 
life be passed as happily but more tboughtfuUy. 
Examination will soon coiimience. Oh I it is a 
dread to me, but it will soon be over, and then 
tj return to Sheffield vvill be a lliree-ibld recom- 
pei se. Angie. 

To her Sister L. J. L. 

Nottingham, Va., March 26ih, 1849. 

.... I shall return to the Institute the last 
of July, and be there at examination to recf ive 
a diploma. I am studung m'ntal philosv-phy, 
but I miss very much Mr. Clarke's excellent 
instructions, which rendered moral philosophy so 
interesting last winter. I do think Mr Clarke 
one of the best of men, and one, who while iu 
the world, hvea above it. He gave us a verse 
of Scripture to learn evety morniug after prayers, 
called the " Wosd tor the Day," which reminded 

me of "other days.' K. C says in lier last 

io me: "I would send you the ' W'oid for the 
Day,' bur. as usual, I have forgotten it. Oh ! how 
wicked I am to neglect the superior advantages 
iicre enjoyed for spiiitual improvement! But 
indeed, Euzabeth, it is my earnest desire to be- 
came bttter, and I trust Mr. Clarke's good- in- 
structions will not bo entirelj'^ lost. I am much 
intercfted in liis private lectures, and regret that 
he (Jelvers but one more. I can never ei joy a 
better opportui ity for repentance and resigning 
my heart to Ctnist. If all these influences are 
resisted, I shall pa^-s through If-, I lear, a har- 
dened siuuer. Pray for me, dear Elizabeth." 

If jou are able, I hope you will write her, for 
I do not feel capable of advising her. 

Elizabeth. 

To her Sister L. J. L. 



A MdTIIKKS I'KACK OKFKHINO 



EnsrriBLD, 1849. 

T.) K. C : 

My J^rsn (ifW'. T hnym loner wi«i»M »«> •jvyjk 



tlit< 



Tml 



85 



Wi.ilu 
n<)l.lt>p 



aUcr my nmral on the Oowtt 



> with us to Miiiiiii 

ilio Citv cr<iiir<!(>«l. 

;• TiicMl.tV f. oitiiiif i)rnytr-m'^(tiii^ 

to J« Rii4, Aiir irn nt llieh I'rifvt, 



it ihrin nrt f 



r! tT^T<^ timrc 



A foDtl, a " laliitcd moUier" from (he pire. 

[Skxtb] 
■ <, ttmn h««» rtl<-.| ' n>i« p*Vr cun I forfot 



finomfiitsoi ! Such 

H ' would 

'i ! mind, 

11 -.diiiitly 

)■ ' those 

<• i of the 
uiiivfiro; where wo may (orcvcr dwiil with hini 

09 c'li'dr^n nn'\ h'-ir", nn 1 v.ifh h'-" Vr!nv( d Son. 



t'l 



h 

1.;. , .. . 
of o;if'h is ii 
«dd--' r,r>-. 

r' 

t'i 

1 ■ 






1 i my van 

■I wfih " 



How 

■. wliilo 



'f thiit 
rtdov ' 



It Dcenu a« «ucb aa angcia wear above. 



I hope you will not cease to writ" 
Your affect: 

I-.. I. 1,. 



r, 
jys. 



8BCTI0.V V. 

';e procccdinfr to copy uik1<t datf of 1 S.50, 
"P to say that this la.st sfction of tl,o Inst 
oli«pUT of my epistle, opens under d:ito of Janu- 
ary itlj, 1861. 1 hrive lioion-Hl. th=» tiif-nii-r. to 
a sermon from F'r ^ .i] 

from our nation's i -,, 



•ytbr kings, and for all thai arc in an- 
that we may lead quiet and pcaccahlo 

An invitation ia (riven un to aivwmhle in his 



uy of Ood, has the lan- 



k'M 



! I > I lore the Lord, or no T 
Sill I bl«, or ant I not?" 

But now t c«n adopt the lanfruaKC of Job: "I 



and pr» ' 

And ■ iptives of otir own lind Ik* 

tau^dit to iook imd wait r>r •: by the 

»>im" pmi-nt npHw-itio'i u> .] .\ fcwr of 

tli' ■ ■ : ' 

!i>tion of that part 



eih. 



W 

Jn 



! . .1. U 
:ascI800, 



pardon and i 
exHtM ''V t' 

ha. I 
CU 



8uro you 1 • 

found thora < ■ a 

my ta-^tf is not v.u.ii d \,y cvnUv,! \vit„ li.e vul j aj-uit l.-n u*^^ ttuvU au uvuul of ujy l</r««>i]^ht 
gar and vicious, atnonfj whom my fortune haa I predicted it. 



86 



A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 



My work, ia this section, will go to show that 
the house to whioh Mary was allied, is bound to 
the land of legal bond service by an indissoluble 
tie. I long served and prayed and waited, in 
obscurity, relying upon the promise of eternal 
life to those who, by patient continuance in well- 
doing, seek for glory and honor and immortality. 
I looked beyond the skies for the glory, honor, 
and immortality in reserve for me. But 7iow my 
faith assures nie that Mary, whom I nurtured for 
Christ, is to be spoken of tiirough coming genera- 
tions as the Christian martyr of the 19th cen- 
tury I the Peace Offering in the divided house of 
her father, and that of her country's father ! 

You will, perhaps, see with me, that my con- 
vors'on from my former f4tli upon the subject of 
slavery has not been effected by direct human in- 
strunientalitj-, although my becoming proselyted 
to my former opinion was thus eftected. The 
only weekly periodicals of my own are, the New- 
York Independent and the Berkshire Courier. 
When the subject of martyrdom was Rgitating our 
land one year since, I offered a contribution to the 
Courier, the spontaneous production of my own 
understanding, which I will insert here. 

" BUY THE TRUTH, AND SELL IT NOT." 

That I may do this, I would be very careful to 
ascertain, without any chance for mistake, that I 
am right before proceeding far in any walk of life. 
And in the pursuit of any new branch of know- 
ledge, I would seek to be able to define accu- 
rately all the terms of which I make use in my 
progress. 

On the subject o? martyrdom, I am led to think 
that if every one is a martyr who dies prema- 
turely, while doing wliat he supposes to be right, 
in consequence of such doing, we have many mar- 
tyrs. And if every one is a martyr who dies 
prematurely in consequence of the doings of those 
upon whose doing ho is dependent, and who think 
themselves right, our list of martyrs is greatly 
increased. These are cases which my judgment 
can only dispose of by committing them to the 
Judge of all the earth, who will do right, although, 
as a jealous God, he visits the iniquities of pa- 
rents upon children unto the third and fourth 
generation of them that hate him. 

But if he only is a martyr who dies prematurely 
for standi'.g at the post of duty, as it is plainly 
written out by God, or by the powers he has or- 
dained, defending Juniself and the truth, dearer to 
him than self, only with wcajions that are not 
carnal, depending on God and 7wi himself to pull 
down the strongholds of sin, I ask tn be pointed 
to the grave of the martyr of the present age. 
The eye of the Omniscient beholds if there be 
one such grave, and the power of the Omnipotent 
will produce from every such one a plenteous 
harvest of righteousness and peace to bless the 
earth. R. 

******* 

When the strong man, full of assurance, goes 
forth to duty with more of a neighhor-sacrificing 
than self-sacrificing spiiit, until God meets him, 
holds him in check, and measures unto him as he 
had purposed to mete unto his neighbor, I can 
not discern the martyr in that man. He may 
be the /tero/r m in ; he ??}a7/ be the Christian; he 
may, by the latest fires of his trial-life, become 
completelv sanctified. But when I shall huve 



arrived at the time and place of examination, I 
do not expect to see him in the class of which 
righteous Abel stands at the bead. 

Rut IT. 

The portion above the stars appeared in the 
Courier. That below was omitted. I offered the 
clipping to the Independent but have not seen 
it in its columns. It may have been there, for I 
do not read much, knowing the truth stated by my 
phrenologist, that I must avoid nervous excitabili- 
ty. I have been constrained, ever since Mary's 
death, as I valued my mortal life, to avoid all 
those scenes and assemblies where is apparent 
the spirit which slew her; whether it be speak- 
ing evil of the absent, or speaking harshly to the 
sensitive, suffering brain. There has been a time 
when I was obliged to take my seat in my own 
church, ^remote from the stove, around which 
gathered au assemblj^ during the intervals of 
pubUc worship, discu-sing the merits or demerits 
of the holy man of God, who for forty years went 
in and out before that people, brgaking unto 
them the bread of life ; and who only asked that 
in liis retirement from pastoral dutits, v.hieh in- 
firmity incapacitated him to discharge, lie might 
leave his name upon the church's list, until it 
should be stricken from the list of the living. 
But the plea for disunion gained the ascendency. 
Yet God sent among ns one who had been 
trained to venerate llie fathers,* to stand at 
the foot of his coflin, and invite the multitudes 
assembled to lit^ten to the sermon of Rev. Dr. 
Todd over this pastor's mortal remains, to a last 
look of those features resplendent with manly 
and Christian benignity, in tones and terms suited 
to the character of one of the most holy and 
venerable of reverend men. 

I will here intimate that it is as natural that 
the teacher contributor si'Ould talk of definitions 
and exaoninations, as that the merchant farmer 
should talk of '^ a parcel of land.'" I once heard 
an intelligent physician express surprise that Mr. 
Little could not be persuaded that bodies do not 
as truly radiate cold as heat. The physician did 
not know that Mr. L. had committed himself to 
that opinion in a writing I have copied into this. 
Another committal of his I will note here. 

" Restraint would blast each pleasure at its birth, 
And leave but pain to tranquillize the mind." 

Here, in my opinion, lies one ^ouree of the 
evil under which our country writhes to-day. 
The goddess " Liberty " has come to be the 
Baal of too many American boasters and Ameri- 
can worshipers. Freedom from wholesome re- 
straint of parent or master, either at home or at 
school, during the character- forming period of 
life — freedom from the labor in some useful call- 
ing which earns the bread, is too much the " free- 
dom " sought and " freedom " obtained. Like 
the freedom enjoyed by the sons of a priest of 
yore, it brings desolation, sooner or later, to the 
house where it obtains. It paves the way to 
covetousness or to a desire to obtain supplies for a 
liisting mortality, by direct or indirect robbery or 
thefr. I rejoice to believe that this generation is 
to be succeeded by a more mature and Christian 
view of human interest. That the sons of the 
immortal Washington are yet to stand before the 

c 

* Mr. Joseph Hyde. 



A MOTHKKti I'KACE OFFKUING. 

rmlioDH iiM willoivH hy tito wutnr-ooiirMw ; aud \ I am at a Ium fur ljtnKit<i«« U> nxpruM tho nvt- 

111-' .... .- .. ,..,... 



^ you wiii con(«r 
Yuuis vuy ttulv, 

li.'li. SlMilUS 

II.MX.S or Patatbco, Marcli 2-2»l, 185't. 



\v 

II 

ot 
li 

l< : 

lu: 
I... 
li. 

v 

lliutte in nu' 



iro. T lea Mr \'. 



of Mr. W. Wo I 



ll: ■ 

lii 

li. • 

Uieni. 

8l, . 



WO had a tine vie\\ 
I.ihrnry, where we 

•oks, pajntii.^'i, cif. 



.in<i b;iy ; ibo « ily 
il hours in Iix^king 
We .'i)so viisiieU a 



I) roudy to .sail fur Cahfornia. Il is to go 



til 



ivcr. 

. I 1, 



r f-j.oat a wivk iiiori.- jii ;i-.i:;tlv 



t: . 
li. 
ri 
d,- 

qti. 

huly III' u un 
ftbaurtiity to 
pn)r(.«>«ioii ol 

|K\^pll' id I - 

mui oil ■ ■ 
that I 

lUiir.i; 



nf thr hori'i bptwr.-r 



.1, LuUu^ki:, I., 
iif uo hiriu. 1 



.it liuu; t 
U> ii>r 



■;u'r :i.ini \u< ii.in'i oi i oi. n. i;. >;iiiiii' k, .\l.i 



To Mhs. P,i 

Dkar Madam: I «"»»t mva^-Jf in p«rfomi the 

piinful l;»sk of u: " .f Mias 

Roys. She died t. .t cold. 



hcu: .-...• .... V, 
have bocu, in coa. 



.1 

le. 

I 
■ o 



88 



A mother's peace offering. 



Mrs. Phelps" private {xirloi' to share entertaiumunf; 
with lier. . . . Elizabeth. 

L. J. L. 

Patap.co Institute, May 10th, ]840. 

. . . I am happy to lenni that you and 
Charhe are so pleasautly located, and hope you may 
both be benefited by the refresh'na; sea-breezes 
and bathing, which will be deliglitful during the 
warm season. If your strength shall prove suffi- 
cient for your duties, you will probably spend a 
pleasant summer, wliich I hope may be the case. 
I was surprised to learn that sister Pamelia is 
thought to be dangerously ill. The latest in- 
formation I had had seemed to intimate her con- 
valescence. I have often thought of her, and 
have felt a desire to know tlic state of her mind 
in regard to her future well-being ; and when in 
the solitude of my chamber, I have breathed 
fervent aspirations to " Him who doeth all things 
well,'' she ha'? not been forgotten. Little did I 
imagine that while I was feeling for her the most 
intense solicitude, she was even then enjo3'ing, 
in a flu' greater degree than myself, the light of 
God's reconciled countenance 

The information you gave, is to me a source of 
the greatest comfort. May it serve to awaken 
tny own conscience and stimulate me to greater 
devotediiess to the cause I profess to love; for I 
sometimes fear lest the many 'hindrances to a 
holy life which I daily and hourly meet with, 
may prove a snare to me. Oh ! may I learn to 
form a right estimate of the comparative value of 
heavenly and earthly things 1 

" Beyond tlie sky 
Thy home is fixed; thereon be fixed thy love ; 
Nor seek froui earth, what earth can ne'er supply.'' 

You wish to learn bow I progress. My teach- 
ers say I am doing well but I think my jarogress 
slow. Indeed, I think my ear for music is a de- 
triment to my reading it rapidly with my tiogers. 
I have just taken my first snng with the guitar. 
Mis Plielps asked me to remember her to you, 
and say she sympathizes with you in your afflic- 
tion. Much love to Charlie. Tell hun I am 
teaching Mrs. Phelps' little grandson whose name 
is Charlie O'Brien. He is five years old, and has 
just such black eyes as Cliarlie Little. 

Do not delay writing to Elizabeth. 

L. J. L. 

Patapsco Sejiinary, 
May 19th, 1850, Sabbath Eve. 

Dear Sister : You may be siu'prised to re- 
ceive another letter so soon. Coange, which is 
marked on all below the skies, seems to be my 
lot. Before another Sabbath eve I shall probably 
be faTj very far from this, even on my way to 
Louisiana. Yoa wdl be surprised at tli's intelli- 
gence, and perhaps will think me unwise in tak- 
ing such a step. Colonel Simmes came horn 
Louisiana iu pursuit of a governess, and ilrs. 

P had no teacher thnt she cou'd send unless 

I would go. She would like my services here, 
but con.sidera that it will be for my own interest 
t5 go. I had but a few moments given me to 
decide, and I left it to Mrs. Phelps' better judg- 
ment. 

Tne C3S6 was soon decided, and Colonel 
Simmes left for Virginia. To-day I received a 
line from hicn, saying that he will meet me in 
Baltimore next Wednesday evening, and start 



for New-York Thursday morning. Now cm yoti 
not meet me at Judson's Ho'e', New- York, and 
spend Thursday night with me ? If you are well 
enough, please do so. for I may not see you ajjoin 
for years, if ever. We are to go by way ( f La'te 
Erie, and the Ohio as-d Mississippi rivers. A 
pleasant route. I wish so much that I could go 
home, but suppose th-t C'JU not be. I can hard- 
ly realize that I am g )ing fo far from all I love, 
but hope it may be for the best. My 'rust is in 
Him alone, " who doe:h all things well." 

I must needs be brie^, as I have other lettets 
to write, and I shall hope to see you and tell 
you ail. Farewell for the present. 

Your affectionate sister, Elizabeth. 

Louisiana, June 6lb, 1850. 
My Dfar Father: Truly I can bear witness 
to the verity of the assertion, " Change is the lot 
of mortals." Within the space of three short 
weeks has the plan been conceived, suggested, 
considered, decided, and executed, of my leaving 
Maryland, and taking up a temporary residence 
in the extreme part of our Union. Yes, I am 
really here in Louisiana, though I am hardly 
aVjle to realize the fact, so sudden has been the 
transition. Perhaps myfriends may feel to blame 
me in this decision. I have in part sacriticf-d my 
own inclination to the advica I sought in re- 
ference to the matter, and if I have ern-d, I hope 
to be f)rgiven. I had, us I supposed, become 
quietly settled at Ellicolt'.-i Mills, for the summer, 
when Mrs. Phelps had a call from Colonel Simmes 
of this plac;-<, who was in pursuit of a governess. 
She had known of the flimily, and was very 
sorrjr to refuse him a teacher, but she had sent 
out all that were prepared to teach this year, and 
could not supply him uidesi she spare'i one of 
her own teachers. She proposed that / sliould 
go. The coiiditions were stated, and a few mo- 
ments left me to decide. The result you know. 
Mr. Simmes was to spend a few days in Wash- 
ington ; meanwhile I was to prepare to accom- 
pany him. He told me he siiould go the 
northern route, via New- York and the lake.s, 
and Ohio and Mississippi rivers. I thought 
perhaps lie would be willing to take the Hous- 
atonic railrortd from New-York, and .so stop 
in Sheffield: but my anticipations were tot 
to be rea'iz' d I left Mrs. Poelps on Wednesday 
evening, May 2"2d, for Baltimore. Angie and 
Mrs. Carr, who had spent the day at the Insti- 
tute, accompanied me. Mr. S. did not arrive till 
the next morning. He informed me that he had 
been ill since he saw me, and had concluded to 
take the shortest route home, which, though not 
as pleasant, would occupy no more than half 
the time. We left Baltimore on Friday m rning, 
24th ; passed throuuh Washington on the cats ; 
sailed down the Potomac, and t'^ok the cars 
again for liichraond, Va., aud Wiinoiiif'toii. N. C. ; 
travelfcd through the night, arrived at Wilming- 
ton at one p.m., Saturday, where we took a 
steamer fur Charleston. The sea was rough, and 
nearly all on board were sick, myself amDng the 
the rest. Lauded at Charleston, Sabtia'.h morn- 
ing, breakfisted, and took the cars f ^r Aus^usta, 
where we arrived about dark. Took another 
train, and rode during the night. Breakfasted at 
Ac'anta, Ga., aud arrieed at Grifion about noon, 
whe-e we took the stage for Montgom'iiy, Ala., 
a distance of ninety -five miles. The roads 



A MOIMKKS PKACK OKKKHlNti. 



I n« Ariv i)i!(i(r hnt fo<i«), •nd I l^tynn to m*far > th*t I nhciitl/l pnwvi^ (n k r'«w-Vira«t with tht' 



ti ■ 
1, 

0\ 

t 
I 

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ll 

fur, 
lOHVO I 

K'' 

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t 

( 



IlluiJv r|i|>f.-Mr<lilC4 Ui lilt? i) 

lolil. lo itiH nioimtiro of tho 



■ a 

i Hill 

The 

■vel— 



a very h 

-i> far, Hlict I 

;>o lo du biUur Itiuii by ; 
I Kdkii AiifrUNt*, (*•.. I 



for '• I. . 

u\d IIIH'i ; ^ray liruUmi ; lilH 

c\ ■' ■ ■ 



di: 

Hllii I'lIU .t 
UlidtT t. ^t 

evenititr ^^o 
for Moiiili- 

r> ' 

n. 
n I 



litv D. i'r.ill, a hUti.iior 

I o'cltK-k Die boat ran 

I (lid uot dure 

iipU were bo n;? 

. 1 .wl II .. h ..'. r 



■ ttil iW(X»Ufll 



01 

111 

O 

P • 

ll. 

III.' .. ^., 

when, u> niy fffi'Bt jm, l»«iwwii e'even and 
tM'e>v«> f«l it'^ht. I Mt mv hii-l frndiiiilv 



da 
Ki 

Bt" 
Cl. 

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ain 

wai I.) 
wliioh 

Ss'. ■ 
\v< 



down ihe d lii to l>ake I'or 

w.- firriv-d nn S.ituHnv n-r: 



UK'", fXi-rpt lo liiu carriHgu 
n« tn ))!« rco'dofl^o. On 



!• ' •■. 

Orleaiif. Mr. S. k . 

ingr Willi hoDies b'. . ;i 

crevnwo had occurred liiHt had cf>vered ihe 

roadA iieailj the whole di't-mc nnfl :t vr^" ir- 

iKfflibie lo d'ivo « r»irri:Ke ' 

I co'jld ride&D hors Ivv.k Ir 



lew uiiUtrflUHKl (iId luoUveA, and ibi- r 

hs finil dtfoil; but t»-rit hf wn« : 

down bis life in the 

Ooin; and alio i Id ' 

main.". lie tilicjuld HiiMavr.- i^r.; y :< .r- :< rn-\ 

aud pnueed to the Island ; HUd \vh- n ibe it- 

hnbilaiiis are convii'-.i .• i' •• >■' •• i' 1 i-* 

motives, ho tea's i 

for hiint<elt wi allh ■ 

enjoyed boih to bis 

porlant nflRp«>« {,f i 

r of M liM I. M -J .r-' , • . ; ,1 ■ : i';c 
at a isaUry of tifiy tliou»«nd do]- 

I received a leuer from brother 
week, wrillen at Panama directed i 
tiitc, and forwarded lo this place. Ik< wan will 
and in g>'vl spirit". 

I fear I have wenritd ymi with r 
and will dvftr wbit 1 would say 

" ■• a"k broiber L^^vi t' ,■■. -.-, it 

- I am very anxious to h«^r 

■ to ftiniiiHsport, Avoyelles, La. 
1 no to all. From your afTcctiontlo 
R KoYS. 



Whitk Hall, Ln., June 27lb, 1850. 

r .,-f. ti - I.... 1.- ..,..■!, ir.i-.. t,.. .,t- .v.! 



.Sln». 6. ifils Oil' .- 
ni nbioji'inj' H pi"i. 



old. Rur.ABin'iL 

L. J. I. 

NoUTiU'ORT, Aup. 2'J'I. 1850. 



90 



A mother's peace offering. 



lad.> — a happy Cnristian. Cculd her most inti- 
mate friend have more justly deliaealed the re- 
fiaement of her manners? tlie elevation ( f her 
miria ? In that blessed land whither tho las 
flown, what advancement will she make in all 
those graces and attaiamenta which endeared 
her so much to ail who had the happiness to 
know her while she was a resident of earth. 
She had a peculiar and most happy mental or- 
ganizatiin. To know her, was to love her. 
What a blessing: have I ever considered it that 
Elizaneth was my friend — that from my earliest 
youth she was my cho:-en associate! and with 
unspeakable grief at our grep.t loss, I can fully 
testify that for purity of mind aud couscieu- 
tiousness of action, I never knew her surpassed. 
Truly may we say of her, 

" Thou wert unfit to dwell with clay. 
For sin too pure, for earth too bright ; 
And death, who called thee hence away, 
Placed uri his brow a gem of light."' 

And I v/il! ever reuietiib'»r Iier ■a.H a strain of 
rich, unearthly melody, which fi''st awakened in 
ray soul a delight in harmomous sounds — a love, 
a longing after music, whether produced hy the 
human voice or that "unwritten raelo'iy" which 
has filli d creation .since t'^e time wlien the morn- 
iug stars sang together, and the sous of God 
shouted for joy ! 

I inclose half a leaf wdiich I had gathered 
and prepared to put into my next letter to dear 
Elizabeth. I searched for the mo^t ftMgraut of 
plants as a fit offe-'iog to my friend, not thinking 
xh^t the angel of death was abroad on the same 
errand, a';d that before my simple gift could 
rea-.h her, she would be gathered to beautity 
the mansions of the Eternal. One half I send 
to you, the other I shall always keep as a pleas- 
iag remsmbranee of my frieu'l All our re- 
membrances of her must be pleasant, must be 
delightful. There was nothing sad, nothing 
melancholy in her life or her death. Truly 
may we admire the life and death of a Chri-t- 
ian^ when it is a subject of so much j..«y to 
the angels in heaven ! Please to copy what 
Elizabeth wrote to me in her last k-iter to you. 
Do write paiticulars. Tell me how your father 
sustains the shock, and how your brother Levi 
conseijts to endure life since the dtsire of bis 
eyes has passed away. Pk-ase t^ll me of your 
own hea'.tt), and remember that whatever trans- 
pires in old Sheffield is of interest to one whose 
childhood aud youth were spent there, at.d 
whose present phice of abode is so widely unlike 
what, youthful dreams pictured as my residence, 
whtn I should come to woman's es-.ate. 

Eliz.a.. 

E L I Z A li K T ir . 



When I have felt U'lon ray feverish brow 
The coiilins breeze that rou d the in 'untain hii<at 
Had 'ingerrd, sighing through the frustv pint's ; 
Or whpn my >iiul was troubled, .nnd the hour 
Of twilight's stilness brought a pleasing balm, 
Sueh tlien was that calm luxury of bbss 
That in thy pr sen<-e I liave always found, 
Sweet, lost Elizabeth ! When thou didst sing, 
An angel seemed to w rble in thy voice, 
Tiiine \vas such soft, such melting melody! 
And in thy smile there whs a playfu'ness, 
Te ling of so pure and innocent a heart, 
That I have th .nght myself approved and better, 
By e'e i one smiling glance from thy blue eye. 



Thy conversation w.is so like th.'sclf ! 

So gently mild ! Not one injurious uord. 

Or one harsh thought unspoken, I divine. 

Hath pained another, or hath giieved thyself. 

Mild wast thou, yet tlrm in goodness, as the 

I'eeo calm strea ii, which can not be del.ayed. 

But howe'er nulely ruffled, s-nks to rest again. 

With heaven ever beamins from its face — 

Too purely good to tarry in a world 

AVhere ihou didst count thyself but journeying through 

To happier realms beyond. 

Thou hast escaped, ere friends were well aware. 

And left those smitten with a selti'-h grief 

Who would have wrestled lona, to have retained 

In thee, the angel of so many blessings. 

Now gone to be angelically blessed. 

Baltimobk, Aug. 1850. 



Sm-'FFIELD, Aug. 9th, 1850. 
Mrs. a. H. L. Phelps: 

Dear Madam : Yours, conveying the sad in- 
telligence of my sister's death, was duly received, 
and would have whelmed me with grie'i iiad I not, 
through grace, so attained as distinctly to see the 
liAud of a wise and graciou.s God in every event of 
life. I have learned that it is good to give back 
to God the choicest of his gifts, sa prepense is 
the human heart to bestow upon the gift, the love 
that is due to the giver. Elizabeth is the tiist to 
be taken from a loving band of eleven mother- 
less ones, who will feel that death haih not 
spared to take the ch'ticest of the flock. May 
heaven sustain the hearts bleeding with so deep 
a wound. She was in early life a pupil of mine, 
and I was happy to commend her to oae so quali- 
fied as yoursfclf to impart instruction to her in 
later rears. I cordially approve your course 
ill relation to her and s'ster Angie, avjd f fter you 
my sincere and heartfelt tiianks for the d. ep in- 
terest you ha^e manifested in their vvellare, far 
beyond what I had reason to look for. May 
heaven reward you a thou*and-fold. It is evi- 
dent to me that Elizabeth was not sutBciently 
strong to undertake the journey to Louisiana, 
but you knew it not, and she lackt^d independ- 
ence, enabling her to cousult her own feelings. 
This God withheld in his unerring wisdom. It 
was best that her pilgrimage should eud, and 
she enter upon her " everlasting rest." The 
thought of her dying a stranger in a strange 
laud, adds intensity to the affliction of those who 
so ardently loved her. Bat I have not a doubt 
that her divine Shepherd was with her in the 
" dark valley," and that she p-issed it fearing 
no evil. Yours, L. J. Little. 

Eaton's Neck, L. L, Sept. 30lh, 1850. 
Helen! bow are heaven's atiracd^ns in- 
creasing, and earth's lessening with me ! yet a 
few strong ties remain lo bind me to earth — a 
few reasons for seeking to prolong my weari- 
some pilgrimage here. Then let me forbear at- 
tempting to give utterance to the string emo- 
tions that crowd around my heart as I contem- 
plate addressing you. The great Physician 
mercifully binds up the broken heart, and it 
were wrong so to dwell upm our losses, dis.tp- 
pointments, and bereaveQieut^, as to tear open 
the wounds and cauf^e them to bleed afresh. 
You ask tlie particulars in reference to the diflfi- 
eulties in our church in Sheffield. I would not 
like to go into detail. Wh'le many accuse Mr. 
B. of disturbing the peace of the church by un- 
advi-edly presenting a request which should call 
out the true feeling, I can discern nothing but 



A MOTHKUS FSACE OFFKKING. 



91 



the li»c(J or Hiiu who workelb aooordiuft to the I einoe Uio death of Um Rort that "her health 



1 (tif>y irum 1 ii" i' 
ana, Jul'j 2()ili, Itt^u, iu< 

I>ied, at White Hall, ibo ns 
Siimwcit, oi) the Uiti iuMt., Mi.-< 
Tne ilto<-MM-d KB^ a naiive ol 

fa' i ': 

t 

! 



I:.' 

a- ; 

the luiiuiy o: 

tion. by the I 



.vurda: 


ii" 




Hi. 


. L. 

l/ouifti- 


pcauu 
atJU to I 
I 


iiy: 





I U> a(X'«pt a Hiiutiiuii, :> 
J. t! )il WfUJ toudertil lior m 
•1. Ill ihm ltt*l oilUA- 
.^riiiHhilily of hor duipo- 



nr. ()u< 



i< r tiio ' 
tl(»« lir<«!. 



work." 'Mv fatbur! U 



iv»id ir'im lor 



• cjuiii have Oecii no 

» »hai would haxe Jm- 

k to her frieud^ 

"TO preneral «tm- 



8iio repeated Itie Loro'a prayer, a (^hed. and wan 
no ni rf>. Tlio doHthhid of your pi«tf-r ^is a 
pri . Wb8 div. 

t' led and i r 



tic.-. ! 
a nioiir 
pcene oi a ■ 
dread of et<r 
wbero to l.cr ...... 

exu'ting triun)ph of n 

bloom and purity ; rni^' : 

the HCf in«a nf worldly tl in^f, to h 

worl'l : •■rp'k'rtr <^IT ihf> f lt<»r^ ' 

I. 



e well 

..f <iu- 



!■;» 



r.irri*: 
: Madam 



aud re'pLHji of u.l. iItt Ut<it*i i,H>i lK:eii aiu- 
cerely mourned, and left a blauk in our little 
community diffioult to l»e filled. 

Mri>. rhelpo writes ui tliat ahe has aacertainod 



.i»tr», the powtr of elu.injf 

M. 

ATCHALArATA, Oc*., 1860. 
I regret that a reflfxinaa to 



will bo with tiice in tro.. 
holy writ, nud fiom thi. 
you havederivcd coni»ola'K>ii. Mi-f 
I tion for \oii (-%ctH'de<i that of n 



II inui.iintii>ii, and nt lb* iiead ui ikt ^rave 
nd* A l'Ui?o oak-tree. T'l** ^^'^l;■») ■fir<«. a 
.n. (lows nt 

HitO WRH c 

p< wo. ?.; 
loans in ... 

warded at tti i 

that ci'y the i < 

they are ahipp d. in cwt.i.R', dv.r i..u..;i.i;, ^»tr- 
mit me to aaxiiro yoti tliat year »i«t4'r wt<!i an 

! that 
ll can 

Very ^i^ccrely your?, Mabt Mmmf.s. 

Hampton, Ve., Aujr. 24ih, l^.■. '. 
DEARHin' Ki.ijsa: Your leufr has jut r. .i nd 
ir.e. I CAH but an- ' :ier c«n I nfrain 

from writing. O K -j loved one, ibe 



n 



A MuTHEirS TEAOE OFP^P.RING, 



favorite of all hearts! tlie tears fall fast while 
I d'svell on thy cherished memory. How inFcru- 
table are the ways of Piovideiice ! In vain 
may we a-^k, Wnere^ore, wlierefore, Lord? 
Her la*t hours without one kindred ; her c-rave 
among strangers; and she, the darlinp: one, 
wtioni all hearts loved, whom all woukl have 
folloived mourning! Oh! do no", tell me she is 
dead I Let the awful sentence be reversed ! 
Does stillness reign in that once throbbing 
hear.. ? Does silence f )rever dwell on those 
heavenly lips? Do not tell me thus; 'twill 
breaiv my heart. Could I share my grief, it 
would not be so overwhelming. But I, too, am 
a stranger. No kindred neir can weep with me 
her sudden, unexpecttd doom. Oh I deares-t 
Eliza! the voice ot nature spake not an untruth 
to your ear at the news of htr departure ! The 
mighty waters hnn% back her requiem. The star 
of evening upon which I have loved to gaze beams 
upon her quet tomb. N"o footfall of relative or 
frie'id brfaks upon that lonely retreat. Sweet- 
ne>s, iua<icenc'^, loveliness, there lie entombed, 
but the heedless stranger kn 'ws it no'. Her 
visage is before me throuded, pale in dentil 
Sw. et, gentle cousin, art thou fallen ? Fallen ! 
No; truly emancipated, risen, glorified. Thou 
art redeemed. The last curse has passed, and 
new, un old beauties adorn thee. On a heavenly 
harp thou art; echoing the Saviour's praise. Un- 
ceasirig tiallelujihs resound from thv ransomed 
spirit. Thou art another from our circle that 
has joinel the cele.-itial throng. Soon all our 
trea.-ures will be there, and our hearts surely 
can no', linger here. I t:*ke up your letter agam 
and again to read. I had devoted this day to 
prayer. But alas! alas! my heart refuses to 
rise. Faith seems to fail. 

" How true it is that 
Spirits of goodness w.Uk our eartli, 

Anrl grace this sin-worn mold ; 
Yet we Ivnow not their peerl-'ss worth. 

Nor prize the gift we hnkl, 
Till with outstretched wings they take their flight, 
We view an angel fading from our sight." 

2Wi August, Monday. — Yesterday was with me 
a day df prayer and sadness, ot hope atjd 
despfmdencv. An April day of sunshine and 
shower. I ff It awfully solemn. Etarnity, with 
its al'iodes of happine-s and misery, was vividly 
before ''oe. Tnis morning, in prayer, I have en- 
joyed much of the Saviour's presence and love, 
A like se-is-n I never before experienced. I 
longed f: r some Christian friend to whom I 
could impart my joj'. . . . Dearest Eliza are 
you not aware how a word (without the speak- 
er's dc-sign, for some know not wlieu they smite) 
somfcti'iies wounds the exquisite sensibilities of 
our natures? You are not unmindful that rude 
hands sometimes grasp these most delicate 
fiii-rs of our hearts. You, I doubt; not, have 
felt lieenly the p-iiuful vibrations cius&d by un- 
skillful fingers upon the finely tuned harp of the 
soiil. The effect is to drive more clo?ely to the 
Friend, the tenderest Fiiend tliat heaven so 
freely sends us. Helen. 

Atciialafata, July 11th, 1850. 
Mks. Little: 

Dear Madam: You recognize the hand of a 
stranger writing to you. You have doubiless 
been inf.irmod thai your sister, our dear Miss 



Elizabeth Roys, breached hc-r last on the morn- 
ing of the 9:h inst, and that yesterday a 
sad and mourning community accompanied her 
body to the grave. Although she arrived 
only a few short weeks since, yet, as Mr. Simme.^' 
nrares!; neiarhbor, I had frequent opportunities of 
.'•eein-,< Miss Roy.s, hoth there and at our house ; 
and each time that. I saw her only tended to 
confirm and strengthen the high esteem which I 
felt for her at first. Already were Mrs. Simmes 
and myself congratulatiog ourselves on the 
prospect of having our children educated by 
such a good Chrisii-an and such an intelligent 
woman, when our prospects were cut otf, and 
she who was so much better than we deserved, 
or had a right to expect, was taken from us, and 
transferred to the regitms of the blessed. Dur- 
ing her sickness, we could not realize that she 
must die. We said no, she will live ; she can 
d > too much good. God will spare her li'e for 
his name's sake. But now that the immutable 
fiat has gone forth, we submit with stricken 
hearts, and try to say with her: "Whatever God 
•does' is for the best." It was on the fourth thar 
we sent for Miss Roys to dine wi h us, thinking 
she had got over her indisposition, wh;ch was 
but slight at firi^t. She was too sick to come, 
and after dinner I went over to see her; and 
during the evening I told her I had hoped for 
the pleasure of i'ltroducing her to a countryman 
of ber.'^, my brotlier-in-law, and also my sister, 
on that day, but that I had had a double di.-ap- 
pointment, for my sister was sick, and she was sick, 
and neither could come. She replied : " What- 
ever God does is for the best." After her fever 
had left her, she fainted and began to grow cold, 
and not the mo-t powerful stimulants known to 
the medical profession could e>tablish a rciictiou 
on the sy.>-te:n. She se.'-nied to sink away with- 
out p'dn, and breattied her last as an infart going 
to its re->t. I assist- d in performing the last sad 
offices of preparing her body for the ^rave, 
thiuking, so may I find a tender fiiend to do for 
me in my last i.eed. She sleeps betieath a 
lovely oak ; and it shall be our care to keep the 
memory of the teacher whom they loved so 
much ever fresh in the remembrance of our 
children, by encouraging them to plant the 
flowers which she loved near her grave, and to 
teach them that death is robbed of all its terrors 
when the Christian dies. It may be a sad con- 
solation to her friends to know that she had 
every attention which a daughter wou'd have 
had in Mr. Simmes' farnily, and tint her phy- 
sician would rank high in any community ; and 
that nothing might be wanting on his part, he 
had been acquainted with Miss Roys since the 
day of her arrival, (he being a brother-in-Uw ot 
Mrs. Simmes,) and could f!pi)reciate her excellent 
qualities, and the los.= whi'h society wwild sus- 
tain in her death. I pray Grid, madam, that, he 
may assist you in supporting the afflction whicli 
you must feel for the loss of a beloved sisrer. 
Yours sincerely, Laur,4. E. Tessier. 

Atciialafata Post-Office, 
Parish of Point Coupee, March 10th 18.51. 
Dear Mrs. Little: I received your kind letter 
written in (Jctober last, and have deferred a reply 
until we had adorned your sister's grave with 
flowers, as we intended. Mrs. Simmes' f nuily 
and my own united in planting out the slirubber3-. 



A MorilKKS PKACK OFFEUING. 



98 



iviid it is all Rrowlii.' liu. 1/ no.v. T.. j.!vc vrn ' lain ofniy h.-'fivrrl wiriV -nli.-itrdo for your ►wcct 
nume i'l-m «ii tn •< which a 

MJMi; i{<..-.' Ti :i iny own 

lllllMl. 



iiav< 
oak, 



<l 111 till' luui ol Uii- 



tli.< ; 
Kll.. 
and 
will, 
to . 
wol; 



s UiiU" eU.ii..i. 
I Jul now, t 



tlint 
prc- 
MrT. 



way. I \ 

livo liin" . 

Hut Utii^ uipiikiil ul uU luiitfixus iHiviirgiti by 

UuviiiK »i'i ''Inirfli. I lifivf> to biv ii<>\v tlint i nn) 

noli.. 

of,, 

to I ...L.V 

uuc : aid [ 

eoir. 1 her 

il'shu w.vt nut 8urpri.'(<<l tutimi ni-uiiiinuiiiiy wiiich 

lirct'-inl'fl to ntiv ri"';!i ■:i!cnl nt all without n 

I'd. " 1 was not pn- 

' 11 uoikI deal of my 

■ ' \ biit I can 

. tiiid siiu 



ilA Ul^iil Ullliii liic l<J'>lL>lif{ ol iti.i;<.ln. llci iijSU- 

tude ill piiin, Imr rtxiifiintion to the will of (i«>d, 
, It'tt an ii 
in her ou 



\. 

aljoi. 


I camo h' 

-..■ Iifl. r i, : 


uinpr. 
over 


Iho curpKu ul liiu un 
At about ten o'cK 
at lir. Sininies, to pii 
sptrt to tUo rciMHius ■ 




h]^>\ 


loved, wh 






.strvire : 







i.se nnd our iiic 
i>I our haviii;,' a i 
loi' a yuur or two, and I can not (^i.d n.y cuiitl 
from home wIutq she n)i?ht hu <mhii-ot< d In nil 
kind-. 
eon. 
tiiai 
yon; 
and ■ 
yoti. Vuurhiuuii, LAtitA K. itvaaUiJi. 



Gbbex 
My l> 



:.2. 

■ need 



. ■■. C. LoLiins, C ii. tuiiet', br. 

• .. Mi Icr, pall-bcarcrs. followed by 

WLL'i'i::^' li.i.iiu^ and many hc-uvy hcartJi. Attbo 

pravt) a solemn prayer was ofTrred to Almigrbtr 



tii^ lur lliv CUI'pau ll Cv'ilUiilicU 

God's blejwin^' ho witlt ir'>o'i Mi.*f» F^oys forever 
and ever. 



out . (.• Tvuii 11 again 

and virT,r oxp'^-inri 

lo t 

tWi 

thir 

mi;... .. 

cause ol (iod '- 

tudcs of lift*. 

thiniis nnd lovud^.-ur U 

bc'CUU-o hfr (^lui^lian inlln 

injj llic .-< ! 

vad.-d. \ 

was .siiat. V 

vct>, fro II her i-nihr 

doa' ii>.id till, if I I ]. 

lia.S c>'a.<''d to hieod, hut Mnaii uiwuyn Uiii.tl |>;itii 

you, by transcribiug trom luy diiirjr the parlicu- 



the Hpiril-iund. All' 
thnn tivi> riortli«. w. 



ilS . (iiouj^lt lilV ^ra^U lulii U ruiLlilil 

Uie buojaocy of youth, the vigor of 



ontb 



l.i-alth, llie 



94 



A mother's peack offering. 



prospect of a useful life, bade us hope. But God 
has willed, and the two angel spirits are united 
in heaven. Peace be with thorn ! 
Very respectfully, yours in atHiction, 

Charles R. Tessier. 

White Hall, January 23d, 1852. 

Dear Mrs. Little: I have been wishing to 
write you for some time. Mother proposed my 
doing so. I think I can take the privilege of writ- 
ing to you, as I knew dear Miss Elizabeth. We all 
loved her very much, she was so amiable. Her 
grave is surrounded by a little fence, and is 
covered with violets in t^ummer. 

I thank you, Mrs. Little, for the papers you 
were so kind to send us. 

Your little friend, Madeline Simmfs. 

White Hall, January 23d, 1852. 

My Dear Mrs. Little : I thank you very 
much for your kindness in sending me the Well- 
Spring. I take great delight in reading it. I 
loved your sister very much, and mother planted 
some flowers on lier grave last, summer. There 
is a large cedar at the head, and another at the 
foot. A little picket-fence surrounds it, with a 
gate. I have been there many times. 

Please write to me. 

Your affectionate Nina Simmes. 

Sheffield, 1850. 

.... Allow me to say to you, that my chief 
object in writing you now is to elicit a reply. 1 
think I have at other times addressed you fcom 
motives less selfish. You are of the number who 
mourn for P^lizabeth. You are aware that I am 
called to mingle sympathies with those who have 
n.)t so much of that faith which is the evidence 
of thiugs not seen, as we desire and pray they 
may yet attain, and my heart has sometimes 
sighed for some of the pious emotions of your 
own breast. I congratulate you in being permit- 
ted to be the honored instrument of the conver- 
sion of a soul. How do Christians live below 
their privilege who are not seeking to lead sin- 
ners to the Lamb of God! 

Unworthy though I am, I feel assured that I 
have a treasure in heaven, through God's blessing 
upon my humble efforts to lead others to Christ 
Methinks Elizabeth appears there as tlie first- 
fruits of my laboring to feed the lambs of Jesus, 
and Mary as the crowning sheaf I 'I would not 
live alway." I would not have my rest on earth. 
No, let me stay till my work is done — till it is 
well done. Then may I participate in the rest 
that rem lins for the people of God. Helen, you 
do and you will pray for Elizabeth's kindred, 
that her death m^y be blessed to them, so that 
they may have it to say : '• It is good that we have 
been afflicted." 

Father says: "Mysterious is the providence 
which has taken Elizabeth and spared me." 
Perhaps ho will see in the light of eieruity that 
her death was the appointed medus of fitting him 
to enter the "dark valley" undismayed. Little 
Charlie inquires whom I am writing to. I read 
my letter to hin], and he told me that Mrs. Bent- 
ley did not die in August. I then recollected 
that she died the first week in September. He 
requested me to correct the error. 

Let us meet before the '■ mercy-seat" while yet 
vre may. L. J. LrxTLE. 



Detroit, March Tth, ISST. 

Dear Sister: Your letter, bringing intelli- 
gence of our father's death, came to us on Thurs- 
day morning. When I saw him last, I did not 
think he could endure again the most trying sea- 
sou of the year, which is the breaking up of win- 
ter. The old homestead will seem less like home 
now that he has gone; though so many years of 
his life have been clouded to such a degree that 
we can never know bow much we should have 
enjoyed his society if his health had i:ot been 
broken by accidental injuries. His life had been 
one well calculated to secure a cheerful and happy 
old age, and with his misfortune, (which must 
have been hard for him to bear,) we have reason 
to be thankful that his good example and coun- 
sels, have been continued to us so long. 

L. J. L. James A. Rots. 

Laphamville, Mich., Marcli 23, 1857. 

Dear Sister: Eliza and I were on our way 
home from a visit to Elias Jewell's, when we met 
Reuben Jewell, on his return from the post office, 
who gave me your letter containing the sad in- 
telHgenc-3 of the death of our behaved father. 
News from the East had fir a long time told me 
that he grew more and more feeble; but alas! 
how sudden the sad truth that he is no more ! 
He spent a long and honorable life, and we can 
have notliing of shame mingled with our sorrow 
at the loss of so near and dear a relative. 

L. J. L. John E. Roys. 

I will here state that Elizabeth's brother Levi, 
who had enjoyed her companionshii) more than 
either of the others, because of a ready ear in 
music, and because his age and exemption from 
the cares of a family bad given him greater op- 
portunity to act as her natural protector, wrote 
Col. Simmes to as'-ertam the probable expense of 
removing her remains to the place of her nativity. 
As he had undertaken to possess the H'gby farm 
(once wrested from the Roys' possessions under 
cover of law) by a thrift at the plow, in Dr. 
Franklin's old-lti^hioned way, he must as a wise 
man, count the cost before proceeding to obey 
the impulses of his heart, under a sudden and 
afflicting stroke. 

Col. Simmes, in his reply, said : " Your sister 
died, sincerely mourned, and we shall never for- 
get her. She sleeps in my family burying-fj round. 
Her grave is beautifully ornamented with flowers 
and evergreens, and Mrs. Simmes and our daugh- 
ters often resort thither." He said nothing re- 
specting the removal of her remains ; but by say- 
ing, " Her salary did not pay her doctor's bill, but 
I paid it with pleasure," politely intimated tliat 
it was his privilege to retain in their new sepul- 
cher those fruits, to his liouse, of the reaper 
Death. And I rejoice to day that Elizabeth's 
tomb is in Louisiana. I regard it as a bond be- 
tween the North, where the pious little girl died 
of grief for the oppression arising from the sys- 
tem or idea of no servants, tofthe South, where 
the pious little girl is represented to have died of 
grief through beholding the oppression arising 
from the system of bond servants. When I t®ld 
my Southern friends that it was my privilege to 
liave four brothers in Sheffield, who do not, and 
also to have had a pastor who did not, sympathize 
with Northern abolitionists, I felt that I was sus- 
pected of insincerity — a feeling with me whicli 



A MOTH Ell's PEACK OPFKRIXO. Po 

has b.-.-.TTin T!1cr n wnnrfl t' it fTirfrV'? f'r.Ti t!i<-- [ fnlth, in?ri-tr-.l t.. !,Irn tn ni'itnT*- Torli-r. TTi.-.tii-h 



hn 
T.. 
th 
It ;. 

In n I !•■ r nt 
ntauii in a ct 

wi'"- '• - 



li.i : ..:c l'.: I :> . 

iV '.I on- li! I 

\< - 

Uvi hLaika II. J.iUli-. u. his iiiilicr. 

to ' - fViiifh bn« flpp<1 t»io fir«t irm!! I- • 

ti)i' ■ 



" Wouiiui'a Kinlii" til ojippiir in a prcraii^cnoim 1: 



TO' 

IT 

do 

fur 
M 

p.,i 

Ci: 

W'. ■■ 

woriit'ii, Am 

Borvan»« fn I 

wV 

hv 

fn- 

fu 
fr 
l"i •< and tlaugiitors oma- 

m •> rif "cTt-tt prif^'" -11 

Oti 

fffv i I II- « lit >s .II'' 1(11 i'::ii;s Hil 111 lilln-ill ■ 

waitired." 



1- '■ > I ill'ili w 

V- 
tl...' 

oil 

d. 

(or 

poor Widow, u. liivi-rt ii 

her claim for tbo value v\ 



96 



A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 



remote from a church, I should have hoped he 
might become a preacher of righteousness to ihe 
labortr^ upon the plantation. I was gratified, 
when lu Florida, to learn that the unlettered hv 
borers of a ftmily wliere I received hospitality, 
obeyed the apostolic iujuuctiou, not to forsake as- 
sembling theniselves, to adaionish, in psalms and 
hymns and spiritual songs, etc., in meetings, which 
they termed •' preaching." Sister Elizabeth, iu 
one of her letters, intimated that a church for the 
common people was had upon the plautation of 
Col. Simrocs. You say to me, when looking at the 
world: " I owalways see the gold in all its bright- 
ness and the spots become small," etc. You 
will here allow me to explain. Scripture says : 
"They that wait upon the Lord shall mount up 
on wiugs, as eagles." I think I may have con- 
vinced you that I had in my hereditary nature a 
blending of haste of spirit with a tendency to be 
" swift to hear, slow to .«peak, and slow to wrath," 
the latter predomiuatiug. That through having 
these gifts sanctified by the word of God and 
prayer, I have been enabled to go through a se- 
vere school of vsaiiing, for conscience' sake, to- 
ward God, when my own will would have bidden 
me wo/7,-, speak, know. As to the eye of nature, 
so to the eye of faith, dark spots lessen as their 
distance increases. Therefore, notwithstanding 
the darkness which rests upon the minds of those 
who are to-day oppressed wiih the weight of re- 
sponsibilities bearing upon them as executors of 
public justice, I look serenely down from the 
mount of holy communion, and see, in the systetu 
of African bond-service in America, a missionary 
entei-prise so exactly adapted to the condition of 
the servants and the served, that I praise t5od 
for his goodness iu this benevolent insttutiou, 
and pray him to hasten the day when every good 
gift enjoyed within its bounds may be sanctiUed 
by his word and prayer. 

The. Word sailh, ''If Ih^ii shalt confess with 
thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and sljalc believe iu 
thy heart ihat God halh rai;-ed him froai the 
de&d, thru shalt be saved. For whosoever shall 
call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved. 
How ihen shall they call (.n him in whom ihey 
have not believed ? and hov/ shall thoy believe 
in him of whom they have ir.t heard? and how 
shall they hear without a preacher ? and how 
shall they preach except they be sent?" We 
here see that Scripture utters the same trullr that 
Harman'-s Cooley's life and death proclaimed. 
Hearinij of Jef<2(s and calling upon his name, se- 
cures to the believer the " pearl of great price." 
When I look hem my mount of vision over 
Afric's sable sons in thtir tative land, a genera- 
tion of whom passes away every thirty or forty 
years, and consider the qutsiious above quoted, 
I thank God that hs has sent so many of that 
people of daikened undtrrtandings to t'ds our 
land, where they may, by thi,ir own labors, earn 
their living in the world, and pay llie prophets 
who guide Ihem to the " Better Lane'." I doubt 
not that when the night of the grave shall have 
lifted its curtain, and the mountains and plains 
shall be on lire, many of this class will then ra- 
il; ct how dillereut our emot'ons liom thos^e 
whose poisessioLS in lime lav in titles to earth. 
J doubt not that since John Bn.iwn has ari.-eu to 
that state where the law of God is not made void 
through human traditions, he enjoys the same 
sou:-satisfymg vision as myself. I have been an 



eye-witness to the fact that it is a harder work to 
convert the man to Chti^t thsn to convert the 
little child. I believe the same differecce; is to V.e 
found in the work of converting the uneducated 
coDscienoe, and the erroneously educated. The 
Nortii has a woik given to it as much h'irder in 
thi^ department of labor, as the number and 
strength of its teachers is greater. How manif<rSt 
is the wisdom of the great King in Zion ! The 
Lord reigneih, let the earth rejoic^ -, , Let the 
North and the South, the East and iftie West, get 
an understanding each of his home duties, and 
leave his brother to do the same ; and let them 
dwell in unity, for protection and defense, for so- 
cial and commercial correspondence, and then 
come up to the anniversaries, a baud of brt- thren, 
the sight of whom is "good and pleasant" to the 
wise henealli and to the holy above the .skies. 

Though man has sought out many inventions, 
none but God has sought out an invention by 
wbich mortal man can be just before his Makei'. 
And methinks none but God has as ye,t designed 
the way by which Eihiopia is to be tauglit so to 
stretch out her hands unto himself, th;i-t her sins 
shall all be washed away. 

Tbetefcre are some of the Peters, who are as a 
rock upon which his church is built, liable to say 
to him, on bis intimating his designs, •"Tliat ha 
far from thee, Lord,'" because the c.'eauons of 
their own m'ghty minds are opposed. Methinks 
that if it were my lot to '■'e head of the female 
department in a house Ibllowing the old fashion 
of our father Abraham, I should ssk f t the ad- 
dition of a blackboard and crayons, and then to 
be permitted to take all the house-servants who 
are under ten years old into a room containing 
these meiderii improvement?, to hold a season of 
daily divine >vorship, by praying to Clod, singing 
a devotional stanza, aud handling his word. Me- 
thinks I would begin by writing in plionetic cha- 
racters Vipon the blackboard, before the unlettered 
mindp, ttio shortest verse contained in the Sctip- 
tures — would pronounce the words, and teach my 
congregrilion to do \\vi same; then would point 
out to them by analyzing the articulations, the part 
each charactt-r performs iu describing tl^e sounds 
uttered. Then would proceed to give them the 
idea, and to tell them the iaterest each has in 
that idea. And to make these things /eZi!, as weil 
as seen and heard. I would close my eyes and 
speak to ttie Invisible, whose name is present to 
the mortal eye, urging our needs ai;d his kind 
promisep. 

Then repeat something like the following: 

" In the floods of tribulation, 
When tlie waters o'er roe roll, 
Jesus gives nie consolation, 

And supports my fainting soul. 
Bweet iilHiction, sweet affliction, 
That brings Jesus to my soul ;" 

which I would require all of my cong'ega'don to 
join m singing, repeating the stanza daily. The 
phonetic ctjaracters should wait upon I lie board 
from day to day, till their use (not their names) 
be fixed upon the memory. Then ;-hould thej- 
be removed, and anotlier passage of holy writ 
iusciibfed. Perl)f.ps the first idea iu the first 
vei.-^eof the filty-hist psalm; then the stciitid, and 
so on, until the whole of that and the teuth 
verses inland at ime time before the eye. My 
next fcffut would be to have thsfe passages 
copied into the heart by explaining w; o was the 



A MOTH Ell's PEACE OFFKRING. 



97 



author of that prayer, and whnl ih* nin whioh I biirhU ahnve or U.« <)<*pU 4 >vn«»th: t^kinfr th»> 

(f,r. ■ ■■ ■ ■ 

tl--. 

y 

U> : 

at ! 
V 

ki 

bI.i -.ti. 

• ' tbe litair, 



cr 
a I 

D- 

li.r 
til' 
01 
If;. 

Oil! 
tl 



.1 in ton years the di. 



SO iltl ki!i I liiiVU uU-t rVfU, LivcU liko VSItUr 

upon thf ifroiin'l. I liavn ti'>t trM'"^>'l th" • 

of." 

for 

C"i 

fli' 

tl.:- 

uuiiig ilia iiuni 

lo accept t'iv ' 

hia now It .vua aiv 

Hit with rvaut at li 

munioii 

her in I 

bov, 11^1 

di.' 

Ibi>. 

ture Uiti'u Will 

iho HiilV.-rinpt 

ha' I 



-K-tvc-ti WuUia Lttkb lit cJLchabge ut 



- ID be 

.1 OX- 



th 

n : 

Ic. 

th. 

80U\1...., I'Li 

son of color. 

priv ' 
t».. 
ail I 

Dii •. 

le^> 

my uii.. 
which I 



' in that ' 

'5 reads (•.!! 
uii UL. vuiivd %L>:uti; f. 
<( |1 irt present lifo (■ . 

1 share) are not wnrt:.y if. i 
>y that God Lhs roaerved f. 

:.e women of color in 

:..i I'l h-r M) r,ir n^ .- 



part.* in a niei'e of muaic, pve* r; 



1 ujiiid, by iriiiuiiii(^ a 
(in (ill i'" power*, n-: 



.ir \V;4j ll.c CI 

4" Africa sods 



iioiil for »n'<iti^ 



P 



id. 

spirit. 1 mIoo 

wounded in ' 

friends. ' 

toG6; hn' 

or ' ' 

At; 

froi!. 

becau>e tno c: 

do not come b* 

to prevent that 

rauit have, or dee away !ro:a its unrest, i'.io liiv 



sjT.ipa'J.v N'.li.jh l.ii.cn h. 





\ 
M.. 






Uk 




\ Ic 


"■nn.' 1 


' ■ . .V 


■ d'OO ;: 


I :iiy 


OWI 



nrricd h 



i.« biowa which 

'if a "rfv>wn of 

.<aion 

-d ic 



!or prcju- 
my biUH 



98 



A MOTHERS Pf:ACE OFFERING. 



baad'a house was ia a country village, and my 
fither'a in the suburbs of the town, three full 
miles distant. TDeti, my father was a farmer, and 
my husband's elder children were those of a 
merchant. Besides, all , my school and other 
duties were performed west of the Housatonic 
river, a stream which, when the icy fetters of 
the North were broken, swelled itself through it? 
mountain contributions to a broad expanse, cov- 
ering fields and highways, and often bearing 
away the landmark of neighbors and the passport 
of travelers; but which, when summer's drouth 
had consumed the food of the cattle pasturirg 
upon its edge, suflered them to wade safely 
through to the more inviting fields beyond, (sub- 
lime emblem of passion's ebb and flow,) until one 
year after my marriage, when my husband, with- 
out consulting my "choice of things," (a thing 
for which I thank God I never leproved him) 
removed all but the merchant honors of his 
family "over (or east of) the river." Here I 
could not, after the fashion of my husbar,d's 
strong mother, in her log-house in the wilderness, 
with only one pair of hands at my disposal, do 
all the honors of washing and ironing, baking 
and boiling, making and mending, table-serving 
and chamber- work, teaching and nursing in the 
house of the elevated New-England man of fami- 
ly. Had he suflered me to explain mj case, I 
doubt not I might have convinced him of this, 
as he was easily persuaded before committal ; 
but human traditions, opposed to my view of my 
own case, gained an ascendency in his mind, and 
when his lace was once set to an idea or a pur- 
pose, it was as a flint. 

Perhaps you may feel disposed to inquire how 
I possess any other proof than I have copied into 
this, that w much tvas said. I will state that 
there was belonging to the h')use an organ, 
having as much liberty as our pnblic presses and 
reporti-rs, which was to me, in my round of du- 
ties, like a strong norih wind in March, such as 
I sometimes have occasion to face in going 
abroad for health, pleasure, or business. I hire 
the former with something of the same .spirit 
I ever bear the latter, not doubting that summer 
breezes would succee'l. And although while I 
waited the union went out from me, I have the 
peace of conscience which arises from the fact 
that I never went out from any union to which 
God joined mo, or to which, under Gcd, I joined 
myself, and that the uaiou which went out from 
me has not deigned to show cause why it be- 
came a covenant-breaker. 

True, I have felt an oppression which has 
made the language of my heart like that of Job : 
"Oh! that mine adversary had written a book!" 
Oh 1 that the specific charges against me were 
written out, that I might place my finger upon 
each separate charge, and plead " guilty" or " not 
guilty," as truth should dictate. I am now doing, 
through an unlooked-for call in providence, as I 
loo^dd that my accusers should have done by me. 
There was au implied charge in the fact that my 
hu-iband placed a notice in the merchants' stores 
in SheflSeld. cautioning the public not to trust 
any one to his account. To meet this I will 
state, that I was never off my watch to discover 
whether I gave occasion to those without to say 
any evil thing of me, and finding, early iti my 
married life, tha^; what I expended to dress 
myself was looked at through a magnifying lens, 



I desired my husband to name a sum which he 
would be willing 1 should expend annually for 
dress. He named twenty-four dollars, and I 
kept a book so as not to go beyond the limits ; 
and notwithstanding I kept within the prescribed 
bounds, I was obliged to hear of the censures 
abroad for my sins of dress. '" Some body" knew 
of a clergyman's wife who said she did not wish 
for aught better than a calico dress. But as I 
knew of no law binding me to copy one clergy- 
man's wifa any more than another, and as I did 
not feel in danger of breaking over tlie Scripture 
rule concerning the wearing of " gold or pearls 
or costly array," I ventured to take the liberty 
of doing as I pleased with that which was so 1 

exclusively my own. Thirty dollars at farthest, 
and perhaps twenty-five, would cover all that 
my husband paid for me and my children to 
go abroad. One shilling is all that I can recol- 
lect his paying as my admittance-fee to au enter- 
tainment, and that was to a ladies' festival in 
Great Barriijgton. 

Letters were not prepaid in those days, and . , 

when my husband asked me if I knew how much ij 
my postage bill was, 1 was obliged in truth to "| 
say: "No." But of one ihing I was confident: 
mortsl life demanded intercourse with mortal 
friends, and in ray intercoui-se with mine they 
had the fortune of paying for more letters, and 
receiving mo-e visits than they returned. If the 
" Some t;ody" who considered the calico dress the 
right mooel for me, was the instigator of striking 
down my allowance to twenty doliars per annum, 
to include ail expenses for dres-', travel, reading, 
and writing, as well as counsel in medicine, law, 
and theology, contributions and admittance-fees 
to entertainments, the satisfaction must remain 
but partial under the new order; for my streugth 
has not enabled me to sew calico since Mar^^'s 
death, or, by washing and ironing, to keep such 
a dress in constant readiness for appearing in a 
public eongregation. Therefore the fabric which 
tias a union of cotton and wool, cotton and silk, 
wool and silk, cotton wool and silk, or either 
exclusive wool or silk, is better adapted to my 
reduced resources than is a strong garment made 
from cotton alone. So, living under the Consti- 
tution of the United State.3 of America, I con- 
tinue to do as I judge best with what is exclu- 
sively my own. A privilege, I rejoice to say, 
enjo}^ d by every bond-servant in America. Yes, 
if be has nothing else, he has a conscience that is 
not under bonds: and no man can compel him, 
voluntarily, to set his name to any deed which 
his conscience tells him is wrong. Deeds written 
through his band being held in his master's, will 
not be set to his account by the Judge who does 
right. The promise that God will withhold no 
good thing from them that walk uprightly, stands 
as sure to the slave as to the ma^ter. 

Each class among the sons of Adam, and every 
individual of each class, has legitimately its pecu- 
liar " easily besetting sin ;" and it is true that 
God has a fixed law of assimilation between in- 
dividuals or classes sympathizing with each, 
other. There are but two ways in which I cau 
avoid contamination from proximity to a bias I 
do not inherit. One is, non-intercourse, or close 
communion ; the other, sympathizing with the 
sinner till I come under the power of his tempta- 
tion, and then taking the way of escape God has 
provided, by coming continually unto the blood 



d.i 

fir 

foil 



•i", twvini.' : ■ 1 fi' "■• I- My 



alL 1 



lii 
b.' 
a - 
do 

a <: 

Dniau ul' thu ii<.p;tr.Uor '■ 

book of Ot)d with tht 

H.' 

w 



,1, 
M 
wi 

ra' 

hi-- 

rr. 

tor 
I I 

] 

tJ- 
n t 
h" 
\^■• 

Ri 
a.- 
1\ 
vi 

y.., 
cit 

y 
p..' 

sti 

Vi : 
tl; 

t<> 
?r ■ 



Hond d 

• ■vr-ll. t 



.OHO. l-u: 
-in of " I 



and 



d tn jrM^nirfl if T «<v«<>de 



' > givu inc. 

T had pro- 
ly : -I Jun"t k' 
u wfro M.irnr 



03 1 was noi ilion con- 

irrf'Tit. T J;nd !;nd ri 



ttud llieir pr»j>«:r 



tore; that 1 nin ppiritun. 
ihat I have been n «": 
wbich I can pcrs' 
humbled mvaeh' to • 



liiiiii uiy juvi-tiilo 
no one, perhaps, 
1 ibor and to pray 
1 their oten homes, 

MP. only reflects 

i'ii of my ancos- 

onlv implies 

-r\r." .1" of 



that i ha\ j 

:i to me th.i! 
bvfi iio Uttiiu io*u*»j/, I think within ii._\ .-.»..;. tUo 
tinift will rrtirt^ wh««n mnr own sins will trouble 



. iUuii a tiiiu)f. 1 utii iiui iT'iisciuiH 
I a tliintr in th?" letter T on,H> t^ld 
r, when I wa-i ^- 

refcrred to in ■ 



CO: 

*" li 

as much ii5 pvii^Sible. Tliat 1 

almoflt la (>xr^9n U tmn, nnd It 

till- •■ 

I, 



a to u liuly uH'kv. iiui 1 pri-Vr plain - 
■» the lino of n Nfose'. or the rroph*>t li- 
iini to I " iiu an .\aroD wi 

with lii~ in, around an ; 



100 



A MOTHER'S PEACE OFFERING. 



ment iu his house as a visitor. But I am Ciod- 
like enough to love a " cheerful giver," and am 
happy to have a list of such in mj' bock of re- 
membrance. May what they have sown into my 
hands and my heart be returned a hundredfold 
into their own houses. And may such joys as I 
have tasted, through the ministrations of the 
apostolic spirit, descend upon every desolate 
home of the '' widow and the fatherless." I 
would that my "Abolitionist" brethren and sis- 
ters search the Scriptures with especial reference 
to ascertaining whether Clod places the greater 
emphasis upon the afflictive condition of the 
motherless and the hond-servant, or that of the 
" widow and fatherless." 

I here state my own opinion, that in our own 
land, the woman the minor child, or the African, 
who can not say of a house which has a paliilcal 
father, brother, hu&band or son at its head as 
master, "it is ours," is properly the subject of 
philanthropic consideration. 

I next ask of my Sbeffield judgres to divine, if 
they can, why, when the six motherless children 
in my own home had possessed a father's house, 
in which they had every indulgence that a fond 
and powerful fiither could give, till they had 
passed their minority — why a tender and belov- 
ed son of six years should be turned out of this 
father's house with an allowance of six dollars 
a month to meet his aggravated orphan necessi- 
ties, (with an intimation indeed that h'S increas- 
ing years should have increasing supplies;) and 
why, when this father deceased live years later, 
these supplies, not having been increased, should 
be cut off, notwithstanding, as I have been directly 
informed, one of the motherless daughters gave 
her husband eight hundred dollars of her own mo- 
ney to assist him to go into mercantile business 
after the decease of her father ? "Was it because 
I did not, through fear of consequences, write 
my name to a deed bearing false witness against 
myself, thereby making void a law of my native 
State ? If so, I rejoice to-day that I have, after 
the example of my Saviour, magnified the law 
and made it honorable. My own opinion is that 
the head of my house, vexed himself, under the 
erroneous idea that woman is less worthy than 
man in proportion as she is less powerful, till he 
laboreil under a clu'onic madness. That when 
I married him he was couvalescant ; but that 
the reproach cast upon me by "some body," ex- 
cited a relapse, under the addiional ills of a se- 
cond marriage, which proved fatal. I shall not 
take my own case to court, for the best of rea- 
sons ; but I stand ready to meet my accuser 
face to face, where the order of an open court is 
observed. My Master instructs mo to take no 
thought beforehand, if brouglit before magis- 
trates ; for it shall be given me in the same hour 
what I ought to speak. If ever I am called to 
testify upon oath, I choose to have no secret 
consultations with mortals, which shall 

" Lead to bewilder or dazzle to blind," 

and thereby write my name upon the list of 
" false swearers," to be revealed on the execu- 
tion of a Testament I hold in my hands as my 
own. In that Testament a mighty One declares: 
"I will come near to you in judgment; and 
I will be a swift witness against the sorcerers, 
and against the adidterers, and against false 
swearers, and agai: st those that oppress the I 



hireling in his wages, the widow and the father- 
less, and that turn aside the stranger from bis 
right, and fear not me, saith the Lord of hosts." 

I farther say to my Sheffield judges, that lest 
a relapse succeed the palsy of which I am now 
convalescent, I shall seek a home in a house 
ordered by a Master, paying such price as is 
demanded for others of my class, hoping there'oy 
to live to compare opinions with all of my 
mother's sons, and my own, ten years hence. 
Long may the " Elm Tree" of Slieffield wave its 
branches over a yearly gathering of its natives 
with their associates ; and long may the elm 
tree of the Roys^ Homestead wave its branches 
over a tenth-year gathering of its natives with 
their associates ; and may that tree whose leaves 
are for the healing of the nations, be seen in the 
day of account, to have received a due share of 
its nourishment from Sheffield soil. God save 
our houses and our towns, and through them 
our States and our nation ! 

I now proceed to look after some of the causes 
for the peculiarities of my physical self. My 
mother, from her heritage and discipline in a 
mechanic farmer's house, had obtained great 
skill in housekeeping duties in an age when 
homespun clothed New-England's sons and 
daughter?. In her selection, she was content 
to take as her own a man who could appreciate 
her endowments, natural and acquired, although 
he had less power of speech and of music, and 
a skin less delicate than her own. A member 
of her father's house has said to me, " Your mo- 
ther was the best child my fiither had," which 
implies that she was naturally religious, and 
possessed a constitution' that enabled her to 
stand at her post under a strict discipline. She 
did not so seek the " good part which can not 
be taken away,'' as to obtain, till I was eleven 
years of age. As a child in her father's house, 
and as a wife and mother in her own, the Scrip- 
ture may doubtless apply to her: "Many daugh- 
ters have done virtuously, but thou excellest 
them all." But she lived in an age when physi- 
ological law was not as universally revealed as 
now. Therefore when the gods had given her 
a daughter, who was otxtwardly more a copy of 
her married than single self, she suffered the 
humiliation of not iindiug the plea^-iug image iu 
her daughter which her mirror had been wont 
to reflect. And though the kindest of women, 
she had never known the pain to a sensitive 
child of hearing its lack of comeliness often 
commented upon. Neither had she yet learned 
that painful emotions may be deep and silent in 
the child. Therefore did she, though uncon- 
sciously, early help me to the blessing of poverty 
of spirit ; and give me to feel that I must be 
content to be a very unlovely being, except as 
I could command love by rendering acceptable 
service ; and thus indirectly educate me to act 
toward those who should come in early years 
ULder my tutorage, as a wise reprover, by wait- 
ing for evidence of willful shortcomiigs, before 
complaints were given or encouraged by me. 
With my outward uuloveliness, I had an inward 
love of the power to please possessed by my 
mother, and fully indorsed the expression of 
Parson Judson, that she was " One of the sweet 
singers of Israel." Her voice in song is the 
bright spot in my sky that stands first to memo- 
ry's eye. This dawning of heaven in my hum- 



A MOTUEU d PEAOB OFFKRISG. 



101 



bio liTrt wnn m'^^M'A >>j n A'^^rtr^rr *.hnt th* • «>??•*: nnA Ih^T'pi^T ^"^ ♦"f^'lf h»r ltri«h«n»l. und 



CM 

O! 



s r«modf or « prorMoa tor 



bauii ui tiioii, u> 

dofio, I llinii^hl li 

11 A 

li 

ni 

h.- 

in 



ari . . 

that dty, v 
inflrniitir". ' 
flax, ail > 
the CUV 

m 
I. 



t ) nao is the waj to he healiliy and 

to the candid that I 

r< Inx in mr nature, 

- dloep 

liw, I 



resuKtnl uu hpii nuij;, 
tnrdvA nmi nf linn-i r 
til- - 

Bi> 
hf 

pie au(i ' 
hers to 
or 

to.' I 

A 

Ti. 
tv\ 
bi 
n« 

aud Mi a tUsHui; Lor 
its prnwr wi>rl» i 



or WoW. K'ai.ln b"ini 



il lii> rend. i 






t/'o thnt Trhrn mr ht^thcr. 



T 



•-d in H 



to ihiU 



Iti. 

BtrettgUi, will 
tald. Her n< r 
any aidf« whi 
exai'lini; m i 

wh - ' 

tl: 
O'l- 

or to io 

bore ilr 

this, by iiurncir, 

were restored, she 



wetk'. 



102 



A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 



to myself every word accurately from beginniug 
to end of grammar, seeing mentally each sen- 
tence upon the right or left page, in the upper, 
middle, or lower portion, as the tiulh might be. 
"When thirteen years of age, my teacher said he 
had once parsed a little, and would gladly assist 
me to parse, but thought it better to he not taught 
than taught wrovg. He looked at the story of 
'•The boy steahig apples," in Webster's old 
fepelling-book ; said he thought he could parse 
that accurately, till he came to the word hoy. 
He was not quite sure what governed hoy. My 
urchin brother of four years went fiona school to 
his parents, saying, "The schoolmaster don'c 
know what governs hoy. /could have told Lim 
that 7nan governs boy." He may by this time 
be persuaded that it is a truth roore easily dis- 
cov^ered than managed. A year or two later, 
another teacher said be had not studied English 
grammar, but had studied Latin some He suf- 
lered me to construe simple seuteijces according 
to my own ideas, except that he once said : " I 
perceive that you sometimes commit slight in- 
accuracies. For instance, you pronounce he to 
be in the third person." I turned to the declioa- 
tion of pronouns, and showed him the list, which, 
Eccordiog to my construction, placed lie in the 
third person. But my teacher met mt with the 
inquiry: "If he is third person, what person is 
himf As I did not then understand why yi/'ii, 
second, or third was applied to the pro-names of 
the invisible, I did not debate farther; yet be- 
lieved in my own mind that I was right in my 
interpretation of my author's words; an obstinacy 
which still clings to me in the presence of mortal 
teachers who have studied many books which I 
have not. 

It was not till the winter before I commenced 
to teach a public school, tliat I enjoyed the ad- 
vantages of a teacher, well qualified to instruct in 
English giammar. All my school attainments in 
geography were under a master who had never 
learned to read a map; and the severest mental 
labor of my school-life consisted in comprehend- 
ing without aid the idea of the solar system, given 
in the introductory lessons of my geography. I 
learned my arithmetic from DaboU's Schoolmas- 
ter's Assistant, where blackboards were unknown. 
I can not distinctly recollect askicg my teacher 
to assist me in but one example. He took my 
slate, and silently performed till he compared 
his result with the answer in the book, found it 
was wrong, and said he had not time to go over 
the work then. I returned to my seat, and have 
no recollection of repeating the oCense. 

But I er joyed the advaijtage of having school- 
mates of the stronger sex, to whom I applied for 
gratuitous aid in mathematics, not in vam. Dur- 
mg the fiist years of my school-life, a weekly 
exercise consisted of reading or reciting "The 
Assembly's Catechism," and in this, as in gram- 
mar, the piinted pa^e in vaj hand was as a light 
shining in darkness, and the darkness compre- 
hending it not. When I was ten years of age, 
the first Sabbath-school was organized in Shef- 
field, and my name placed upon its list on the 
day of its first organization. I was instructed to 
begin with the Sermon on the Mount, and com- 
mit to memory as many verses as I could during 
the week. On the next Sabbath I recited to my 
teacher (a stranger to me) the fifth chapter of 
ilailhew ; was told that I had learned my les- 



son well ; and the number of veises was written 
against my name tj be reported at the cloae of 
the season. 

This course was pursued year after year, and 
I thereby gained a wisdom, aptly compared to that 
gained by the child while learning the names of 
the characteis by which he is in after stages to 
spell out the truths his heart then yearns to 
know. I do not speak of these things to com- 
plain that tbey were wrong at that time and 
place; but to show how knowledge increases 
when many run to and fro, accoiding to the 
prophet's words ; als'i to show that there ere 
two ways of raising up teachers — one by edu- 
cating them (Zirectly, the other iwdireclly. The 
latter class havicg ttie higher appreciation of a 
blessing, the privation of which they have sorely 
felt, become the more zealous (if nature and 
grdce combine to make them benevolent) in de- 
vising means to meet the necessities of those 
committed to their care. I wish also to point 
out the blessing to myself of being not rich. With 
the physiological knowledge then possessed by 
the common people, nothing but a lack of means 
prevented my being placed at schools where I 
should doubtless have become an early victim of 
intemperance, through attempting to slake my 
thirst for knowledge. It was better that a'ter 
learniig to read I should be the protector of my 
brothel s and sisters younger than myself, while 
they were out of their mother's sight during the 
early years of their school-education, and make 
the gradual advances my powers ard opportuni- 
ties enabled n.e to do. And doubtless it was 
better for ihem then to be under the care of a 
sister naturally sympathetic and tender-hearted. 

I come next to speak of the life in me, arising 
from the new birth ; for if any man b& in Christ 
he is a new creature. Owing to my disposition 
to think intensely and silently, and to my feebler 
hold en life than stronger couslitutioas may com- 
mand, I was eaily and strongly impressed with 
the inquiry: "What shall I do to be saved?' 
But I lived in an age when the faith of many 
believers left little children out of the room where 
they met so honorable a guest as the miebty One 
who had power to call the dead to life; and 
taught them the use and power cf prayer in the 
same manner as 1 was for many years taught the 
use and power of grammar. My mother sought 
and found the "one thing needful," to the joy of 
her own heart, w hen my sister Elizabeth was an 
infant, and mjself eleven years of age. She 
united with the church in the summer of 1821, 
and gave her children to God in baptism. The 
following winter more than a hundred persons in 
Sheffield rejoiced in hope of glory, through Christ 
becoming precious, as he is unto them that so 
believe as to be willing to part with all, at his 
bidding, f<jr him. My father was among the 
number. As I silently listened to the accounts 
of conversions, I greatly desired to come unto the 
gospel feast; and timidiy asked my mother to let 
me go with my tklher and the hired girl, to the 
incpjiry meeting. Mother told me the meetings 
were not for children ; so having been tau>iiit to 
think she knew be-t, I said no more about ir. I 
lived to the gge of twenty -one vvithout hope in 
Christ, but not witliout hope out of Chiial that I 
should be brought to timely repentance; yet 
subject to the bondage cf fearing lest death should 



A motheh'.s peace okferinq. 



108 



comf ftt nn )-fnr w)i»n T t'loiv/bt rot, Bnd fluM m« I O Lord) oDable ine to iiurrendor mvmirmul •nd 
uri' • . tboe, to do with tuo ; i'»' 



lUt ilj« Luld JcnU« WWt lu \H*jCvm )l 






to itr«0«ul u> uturtel giiitlta tiiti laquiry ul h j«;iur in vvi..ctt u.ii 



of ..Id 



b<<ojine new. 



ttUti cany lUK o'H l»f tuMiivv, liial i Wuuid uiiae 1:1' wliicu vit- 
b«f»ro ih-it rr.lici '•'>. Ml!'! pr«^^»e'1 to Ih" (•'•n*'or- to m» t!i»» on 

ti 



1 l.< 1 r 
thttt I n: 



r- 

V 

t> 
I I 

I V 

III 

II.' 
I 



.i-t, Btid I f'nid wiiliiii nivsL-ll. wIih'Ii I t'lM 



uii my r- 
•I. I !>■«%•« \ 



•,t mo fp.' 
with all I I 
- I rclt U iLoii Rfdeemtr oi 
•. I <itr<>neUi mnr I bo oti«hlrd 



. hin-. <»i 



I Uio It 
gal*-, M- 
OD eartli. ' 
poini iu a co 



liirLicjOsliLi--. 



' ft'ter 



.\' 



1 I oonornine' iho protnisrd lifi- 



Avr reaurt tor mtrtai litV, lu i ootne nl nn > 

rr. ' point tto m^ 

' frum the entliesl dai< 



. 19S1. — Tins d«y ft Tneclintf of f.i'. 
"d. When I ■■! 1 1 [!..• 11 -! I.-.- I 
■V. Mr. u.. 
liord. o ~ 



tUO lv> I'i..-H>ik0 It] ' 

L.rd, ihct I shall 



>. > thou. That 



lo delivor u^ fron tha ovil of 



•1 mc lu 



104 



A MOTHERS PEACE OFFERING. 



gnide-book for the canse, and instead of i5iidirig- 
such necessity, I found encouragement to expect 
the same enjoyment so lono; as I should keep the 
saoQe place before my Redeemer. And that, re- 
vered deacon has passed triumphantly into a 
ftite where he doubiless hett'^r luiders-tands that 
social joys are so compounded in tlie Christian's 
heart, as to make it difficult to analyze, and de- 
termine its proportionate amount of jeligious or 
Christian joy. 

I wish here to record the fact, tliat when my 
sisier Elizabeth had attained the age at whicli I 
was kept Irom inquiry-meetiofr, because my 
Christian mother thought me too young to come 
to Christ, 1 was led to see it a duty and a privi- 
lege to lake her, with her own consent, to ac 
compiny me at times when I went with ray 
verbal requests to the Lord of lords, before the 
mercy-seat; also that my daughter Mary, who 
had never been exhorted to repent, that she 
might get ready to die, but rather lo get ready 
t J live, c mie to me with tears in her ejes, while 
I was making ready to go out to church on the 
morning of the lir^t Sabbath in the year 1847, 
and said : " Mother, I want you to go aside and 
pray with me. I have been trying to say my 
prayers, and I never had such feelings before ; it 
seemed as if I was sinking." I went with her 
to our closet, and asked Jesag to bless her, and 
al.so iastructed her to go to him at all times 
v/hen she should feel her need, not doubting his 
power and willingness to bless according to bis 
own promise. She was then younger, by three 
years, than myselfj when I asked my believiuii 
mother to let me go to iaquiry-meeling. But 
my mother offered believing prayer f)r the salva- 
tion of her children through many yeaTs, and her 
prayers, though not recorded upou mortal ear or 
the lettered page, are none of them losi; t-> the 
eye of the Eternal, and none of us can tell how, 
olten his angels have been charged to bold up 
the subjects of her prayer.s, le.~t iliey fall is.to 
fatal accident before her prevaihug prayers iu 
their behalf shall have been answered. 

Mary's father testified of her: "I do not think 
she could have been induced to do any thing siie 
thought to be wrong." I will speak of a few 
things, showing her power to discriminate be- 
tween right and wrong. She onco snid to mc : 
'• Mother, Mary S. told me she would tell me 
something if I would promise never to tell of it; 
and I told her I would rather not be told, than 
make such a promise. Do you think, raotlier, it 
would be right for me to promise not to tell a 
thing, when I did not know what it was?" At 
anotlier time she said: "Mother, when I went 
lo 'school to Miss Dewey, I thought the girls ia 
the village had privileges which I do not, and I 
felt envious toward them. I think it was wrong 
— I think I shall never fLcl so again." I have 
before me a piece of glass, in the form of a heart, 
which she brought to me when six years old, wiih 
bitter weeping, saying: " .Mother, when we were 
at Capt. Anderson's, in Connecticut, I asked the 
little girl, who had this among her playthings, to 
give it to me. She said no ; but I put it into my 
pocket and brought it home." These, and similar 
confessions, were not extorted from Mary by 
aught save a conscience enlightened by the Word 
and Spirit of God; and the mother vvhq heard 
them only laid them up in her own heart. One 
of my sisters once told of Mary's coming from 



her retirement with a heavenly smile upon her 
countenance, and saying to her: ''-Aunt, I felt 
ver}'' cross this morning, but I don't feel so now." 
These confessions, of that s-pirit now made per- 
fect, are well adapted to reprove the spirit which 
was permitted to smite her, who so early con- 
fessed and forsook her own sins, but who never 
assumed to exhort her elders to be wise. I re- 
call that when Mary was about three years of 
age, she one day left her playthings, and came 
to me with a thoughtful face, and said : " Motlier. 
do you love me?" I replied: " Yes." She stood 
a moment in silent thought, and then said : " But 
you don't love me when you punish me ?" I 
explained to her as well I cou'd, that it was my 
love fur her that led me to punish her, as I only 
punished her to lead her to be good, and if she 
was not good, she could not be happv. She left 
me, and long- after th.e conversation had jjassed 
from my own mind, she again rose up from her 
playthings, and stood before me with a counte- 
nance giowiDg with the delight of one who has 
solved a difficult problem, and spid with anima- 
tion : " Mother, now I know liow it is. You love 
me. when you punish me, but you don't love my 
naughty actions'' 

Happy for all those who arc puzzled with the 
dealings of God, in his providence toward them, 
v/hcu they become enlightened as that little child. 
Mary early complained of difficulties to her mind, 
in what she read in the Scriptures, and also said 
to me : " Mother, v.'hen I pray, I try to think of 
God, but other thoughts will come into my mind." 
She was told that this was an infirmity which 
she must wait upon God to remove. And when, 
in after years, she, who always offered the first 
prayer in our daily worship, would ask for the 
privilege of saying her prayers again, after lis- 
tening to her mother, and then, in a monotone, 
low, solemn, ricli, and sweet, would go through 
her accustomed litany, those were no vain repeti- 
tions in the ear of the Eternal. 

I was permitted, at the Teachers' Institute, 
(the model school for Mass.,) held iu Gieat Bar- 
ringtoii, in 1859, to hear Drs Emerson and Lo- 
well Mason, of Boston, instruct the teachers of 
our public schools, to open their daily mornin;^: 
exercises with services so similar to tliose which 
had been so abundantly blessed of God, in my 
own experience, that my full heart said: "Lord, 
now Jeitest thou thy servant depart in peace, for 
mine eyes have seen thy salvation." 

I come now to the late.st date of th'S, my first 
public letter, namely, February 28th, 1861. My 
earliest manuscript has gone to the printer, and my 
work of correcting proof-sheets has commenced. 
The business, in woman's hands, of getting one's 
own production through the press, when too per- 
sonal to admit of its being accepted by editor or 
publisher, t-nd too much a work of justice to ad- 
mit of its being left upon the table, has been with 
me, when only in possession of notes not due, like 
my other attainments in knowledge, an invention 
to be sought out. A jirocess, which I am happy 
to say^ gives me to feel wiser than when I com- 
menced although attended with .some humiliat- 
ing lessons. I have to ask the kind consideration 
of all those who, through private correspondence, 
are, to their own smprise, brouglit otit with their 
true names before the public eye. My only ex- 
cuse is, that this thing accords with the genius 
of American administration of iustice. The sin- 



r 

(i 



itt'ii'^i' it t'l'^-r 



A mother'.'* peace OFFKRINO. lOo 



t!. ■ 

kmivr thiit, \s 

ti: 



ti< 
tl, 
U 
cr 



)!•■! f"V >ir 



(-. 

C'i 

w 

In 

B! 

courup'o h:^ 
learner's aid 
nr.- - '•■ ' 

t'. 



moke vi it; 
for thp WU V 



'be piaotation of at. Isabel, 



: iiiiJ it vviet) l>u>iUi;r, if slic Ui^y . I wvulU u. 
rial. I thw letter of ; 

me if I claim to know 
:i bj reading \m phrt 

\ I only claim to know wliat I 

, Il'.t till- 'I-.' Mi> \iU.-' \\\'.\']r- I r V. 



■ riches may come 



1. - 

tile. v. 
nplh«>c 

to ■ 

t.. 






106 



A 5E0II1ERS PEACE OFFERIXG, 



ceived, snd whieli I ;im confident I should not 
have received but for the disposiiiou that pre- 
vails to visit the real or reputed sins of classes 
upon individuals, irrespective of social, civil, or 
religious justice. 

I take the liberty to say here, that while in 
Sheffield, last summer, I had the happiness of 
being introduced to several ladies who have re- 
cently come as strangers into my native town, 
in the relation of step-mother I crave for them 
the courtesy and consideration duo the Christian 
stranger ; myself being impressed that they are 
a valuable acquisition to Sheffield, and are suffi- 
ciently intelligent to judge for themselves when 
to lie down and when to rise up, wlien to go out 
and when to come in, when to'p.iy visits and when 
to receive guests, how to dress, etc. etc. One 
other item in my phrenological description may 
be disputed by those who are acquainted with, 
but do not understand me, namely, the state- 
ment tliat I am much attached to one place. 
Nothing is more true ; yet because of the des- 
perate efforts I have made to go out for life, in 
obedience to the laws of myjiome constitution — 
eflbrts wliich may be compared to that of my 
arising to go into a religious inquirj^-meeting — 
I have perhaps been thought naturally disposed 
to go from home. 

I can not Ibrbear, in this place, making men- 
tion of the event of my father's being gathered 
to his ancestors ; an event which occurred four 
years this day. The last two weeks of his Me 
he had been unable to take his accustomed walks 
out of doors, leaning upon the arm of his eldest 
son. I sat by him when the restiveuess of dis- 
solution was upon his nerves ; and as he ex- 
claimed, "0 dear!" I said: '-Why do you 
groan, father? are you very sick?" " No," said 
he, " but I want to go to sleep. Can I ?" I re- 
phed: "Yes." lie then said: 

" Now I lay me down to sleep, 
I pray the Lord my soul to keep."' 

These were his last words. His eldest son then 
entered the room, wrapped his mantle about him, 
took him from the bed in his arms, and placed 
him in the " old arm-chair." His breathing im- 
mediately indicated sleep ; and soon the breath 
of life ceased, as quietly as when the infant sinks 
into a healthy slumber. Since our mother 
passed away sixteen years previous, he had be- 
haved himself as a weaned child. The only 
wish I ever heard of his expressing was, when 
away from the old homestead, to return and die 
in the room where our mother died. His eldest 
son left a more lucrative business, to return with 
him to the home he desired, where, so far as I 
know, not a complaint was ever heard from his 
lips. His son, his daughter-in-law, and his 
grandchildren wore (to his view) all right, and 
right at all times. He passed away an old man, 
and full of days, from the room where his wife, his 
mother, and his grandmother had triumphantly 
arisen to meet Jesus. His mother was a member 
of a Baptist church. He, late in life, often spoke 
of having felt a desue, in past years, to confess 
Clirist before men ; but a lack of union or chari- 
ty among Christian sects was to him a stumbling- 
block, aud he passed from earth uubaptized, yet 
a believer. Eight years before his death, he set 
out to walk a few rods in the public way, on a 
cloudy evening. It was at an hour when a cau- 



cus was being held in the village ; consequently 
younger political men were away from their 
homes. At half-pai-t eight the women at home 
were startled by the barking of dogs; and on 
stepping to their doors, where darkness without 
rendered every object invis'ble, they listened to 
oaths and curses by some body driving with 
reckless fury through the darkness. A half-hour 
later my fixther entered the house of Orrin Cur- 
tiss, (the home of my mother's early years,) with- 
out a hat, and with a face bloody and so dis- 
figured that he could be recognized only by his 
tall form aud hoary locks. He was overtaken 
by the fast man at a place whei'o a steep bank 
was so near the road as to give him but little 
space clear from the track. The unskillful or 
careless driver, after discovering that he had 
made himself liable to open censure, by running 
against a human being-, instead of waiting for 
our father to extricate himself, (who, by catch- 
ing hold of harness, or wagon, or both, contrived 
to ward off serious accident, till one wheel liad 
moved over two rods of road without rolling,) 
put the lash to his horse, and succeeded iu 
avoiding detection (except by the Eye that seetli 
in secret) by running over the hoary head which 
God pronounces '• A crown of glory." The 
wheels appeared to have passed over or near his 
ej^es ; ana though not deprived of sight, he was 
never after able to read a printed language. 
Though his powers of understanding, or correct- 
ness of jtidgment, were not apparently impaired, 
he had great difficulty iu commanding language 
to express himself, and more particularly in re- 
calling names. Deprivation of power to read 
robbed him of an essential solace in his passage 
to the tomb ; still, his life quietly spake the 
Scripture : " All the days of my appointed time 
will I wait, till my change come." 

At the time I publicly professed religion, Mr. 
Giles Andrews informed me that when he, a few- 
years previous, was converted to Christ, being 
til en head of a family, my father, as a Christian 
nciglibor, advised him to institute family wor- 
ship — told him he regretted that he did not do 
it when first he rejoiced in hope. Eut his flmrily 
was then such that he felt it would be difficult 
for him to establish a new order. . 

Yet I was impressed, when a child, that my 
father worsbiped the Gcd of David in spirit and 
in truth, through the prayers set to the music 
he learned in singing-schools, where he fitted 
himself before his marriage to stand in the choir 
of the congregation. And I now claim that an 
altar of family worship was in my father's house 
at the twilight hour, when the devotional psalm or 
hymn, or the sacred song arose, in solo, by Eliz- 
abeth ; duet, by Elizabeth and Levi ; or chorus, 
by the family band. I have no doubt that the 
seven strong men who were there reared, and 
who are now rulers over as many households, 
scattered in the strong States of Massachusetts, 
New- York, and JMichigan, find that those sea- 
sons are scenes which do noc lessen in value as 
their distance increases ; that as memory turns 
to them her eye, their hearts are tuned to the 
poet's words: 

" A voice from the spirit-land, 
A voice from the silent tomb. 
Speaks with a sweet command : 
Brother! come home!" 

There was one in that band of bretiiren who 



A MOTlIElt'a I'EACK OFFEUING. 



107 



WM n^t Mrdfrft'od, J)ff«ft'!"»«» }!i^ tint'jm difTcivl | fiod, and U>U him how ulflah foo «».' 8oGr»- 



ho 
to 
ot! 
hi. 
ill 



iroiii Miii'-<;i Ki ijif voii.iiio 



Tm. I'vp lo»rn*<l, 
( An>l tiiii.lv. . f iiir MIowK iMrned It too.) 
Til'.' iheworlil AndI<toh«t«! 

Ai : jr»o II, if 'iwcro Dol now 

n. 

v.iih the understandintc then po«- 



ti. 'ice Uke • truo homo 

i-'i. ' 

1 1 ifl cb&ractcristto of the promwid uniTcrml 
rol'erred to atMve, uouer d«ie, 



A little more than a week 



powir ; 
ho did I 



And Uoui>;li(«j I npd jj„ 
i to the "vision" I j y,,ry. 
whaso ct:i»riiit.r i>.ni- iiisu mck oiu "country and ' 
friendf. " 

I ...... .. I r... .il t'.,o» I--,; ■..,,. li, r,v..r ,1. .■•■i>.,i 

n. V 

fa: 

III,' 

til 



ti>i said ; " It id uiue ocluviv. 1 iii> 
than nine in the eveuiog." In 

publicly a quota- 



iny own c... 
ticar to be \ 



live a 1 
iwonty • 
bap^l^Ul, ainl 

if hui\ hfPTl 



trsde." 



I" 

1 



'..vtroiuii iii.iii liitir error. 

I did not n/'f-ont tl « pr«>T»n*»l nf my ihon 1 



ri 1 
1- 



r partner in iiio lu 



c» ilnrao V. 
'I'ps find ' 



brief; to tny 
' •••• I 



Willi ;i I' I ill ^ 11. !• ill ii/>iM' I' I' i.'i.ii'.'. 

Irom a letter of hi?, under dat**, 

"July: 
'• Orari" i« a liUlp, dry jokw. W 



Li/./.ie, ' I'll 

Cii. ' i'.r I.' A 

t. .r turu. 

1,1 ask Ijrjici. 

wliicLi wai rofuried. ' Wi.'i!,' tajs i. 

don't give me soiue, when I di?, I ^ 



uio power 



108 



A mother's peace offering. 



utter." His thoughts were then higher than tny 
thoughts, for he saw that ODly ten years would 
elapse before a door of utterance would be opea 
to me through the cloud which sent me out from 
a v/idowed home in pursuit cf mortal life; an 
utterance Avhich should give mo to direct the 
eyes of all acquainted with my strong house and 
my stronger country to the Scripture : " When a 
strong niHU armed keepeth his palace, his goods 
are in peace, but when a stronger than he shad 
come upon him, and overcome him, he taketh 
fi'om him all his armor wherein he trusted, and 
divideth his spoils. . . . Blessed are they that 
hear the word of God and keep it." 

I am not anxious concerning the result of my 
labors in this letter. I have done what con- 
science has dictated, and I cheerfully leave 
events with my Maker. I am again brought to 
the most trying season of the year, with a slow 
and gradual increase of strength during the last 
twelve month?. I believe that i\xe pursuit of life 
to body and soul is properly the aim of every 
child of Adam. Tuat one great obstacle in the 
pursuit of mortal life lies in the self-denying work 
of taking only so much of a pleasimt tiling, hon- 
estly within our power, as is good for us, be it 
labor or recrea'.ion, earning or spending, feeding 
the mortal or the immortah I have a high reiis'h 
f jr social joys, and I believe that I may reasona- 
bly expect to partake a larger amount on earih 
if, with my present health, I attempt to give or 
leeeive one social call in ten days, rather than 
ten in one day. My sympathetic nature requires 
that I dwell with a strong, healthy family, in 
whose domestic concerns I have no interest other 
than as a stranger. I as:k the kind fi lends who 
have offered me the gratuitf of being a welcome 
gue.'^t in their houses, to receive the statement 
above as my excuse for declining, and in connec- 
tion, to receive my heartfelt thanks for their 
proffered kindness. I also solicit my learned 
friends not to criticise my work as a literary pro- 
duction with too much severity, it never having 
been mine to improve my composition by tne 
criticisms of a teacher. And that every "living 
neighbor may be able to w;^sh his hands in iuno- 
ceney from the transgression, if my work shall 
appear to be sucb, I have asked no aid of the 
kind in preparing this letter. Neither have I 
been able to perform the labor to my right arm 
of re-writing my work, that I might improve 
upon myself, as I have sometimes done in former 
years. If the letters of my own writing, copied 
into this, do not exactly compare with those re- 
ceived by my friends, it is because of such revi- 
sion in those forwarded. 

I also ask to be excu-ed for sending my letter 
abroad in so plain a dress. I doubt not the 
Onrislian liberality of my readers will give them 
to admit (hat it is as good as my circumstances 
will warrant. "While I am content to appear as 
an authoress in the best dress my Maker allows 
me, my happiness is greatly increased by having 
neighbors who are abundantly able to command 
a better ; because I am gifted to enjoy beauty 
and diversity wherever nature or art, in their 
separate or combined influence, legitimately be- 
stow them. But if these luxuries appear to me 
to have been purchased at the expense of denying 
to little children, and to those who have borne 
the burden and heat of the day of life, that which 
is needed to meet their real necessitie?, the beau- 



ties fail of their power to please, as surely as did 
the music of a certain instrument, which on a 
former time became instrumental of teaching a 
reflecting mind less haste. 

I can not forbear inserting in this place, an 
example of one who " being dead, yet speaketh." 
Curtiss Hoskins, of Sheffield, Mass., was a lad of 
uncommon power to plpase. His father was a 
pious, industrious carpenter and joiner, whose 
earnings were cousumed in the needful provi- 
sions for his family, fo thnt he could not command 
time to build for hiin.self a nevf house, where the 
old had become time-worn. Curtiss was solicited 
to go South to sell clocks, and the hope of being 
able to help his parents to a better house through 
the greater wages than he could commaTid at 
the North, led him cheerfully to endure the priva- 
tions of a traveling salesman. He was indefati- 
gable in his efforts to cheer and encourage his 
parents by his communications through the post- 
office. Because of the expectations from that 
soune, a good" house was purchased and pos- 
sessed, and a few months was to give joung 
Hoskins the joy of joining the loved family-band, 
with power to pay tor the house which his father 
held as his earth-home. But alas! Seotember 
of 1836 announced the death of Curtiss Hoskins 
by fever. i 

If I mist a'-; e not, Vernon, ALibama, is 
favored as the buryhig-place of this son of the 
North, whos-e memory shall live long upon the 
earth, brcau^e of his I31ial love. Never shall 
I forget the appearance of his stricken father, 
when he placed a package of letters in my hand, 
as he said tome: '■'■There is a property which 
has cost me, at the post-office, ten dollars in cash, 
and it is the most precious treasure our hou«e 
contains." The man who last employed Hop- 
kins, to assure his bereaved ftimily of his own 
affection for him, wrote them thaf. himself first 
had the fever, and Hoskins attended him ; that 
while sick he made his own will, and gave his 
property to Hoskins. But he recovered, and 
Ho-kins was soon taken with fcver, and died. 
In the spring of 1849 the father of Curtiss Hos- 
kins stepped into the opea air without his coat, 
at an hour when dew was rapidly depositing, and 
being informed that his creditor wa>; in'ent on 
securing his debt against him without further 
delay, he remained in the open air, under exciic- 
meut, longer than he was aware; took to his bed 
that nighr., under the depression of feeling that 
he was to ba soon turned out of his home, and 
tlie next day sent for a physician, saying it was 
the first time in his life that he had employed a 
doctor to himself. An illness of eight or ten 
days released his spirit from its house of clay, 
and gave him to jo-n, in a house not made with 
hands, two noble youths, Curtiss and Franklin 
Hoskins, who had, while on eart!', made glad 
the heart of their father; also t.^o infant sous 
and two infant daughters who had gone before 
from the same family band. He who willed, in 
case of bis own decease, his earth possessions to 
Curtiss Hopkins, for reasons known to himself 
and to the Judge of all the earth, never paid the 
few hundred dcllais of Hoskins' lioi:P8t earnings, 
designed by himsslf to smooth his father's pass- 
age to the tomb. The .^ather struggled on until 
his only remaining daughter had it in her heart 
to go South as a teacher, hoping to be able to aid 
in discharging her father's unmet obligations ; 



A MOTIIEK's PKACE OFFERlNCf. 



109 



•.^ ''ff hrr f!!in! hopea wcro miirjoi Ileloa wiw ' jv^Afftii"- , >«*~,.i.f. tK^i^ bnr^ >>*«» 'i»H Hv 
•arlr ozIiauMmI idv capital '■ 



I:. 

ilavery. 1 
ern will oni 



i whnn I Ihv down the 



V DoreiuidMl 



p« rio'l of life in wlii-h «'> mfl- 
miartfl and i 
not niol ill 



If I 



are not joja to iha uurt^oewtni. 

rent who rc-'lffis to f'!m'«h n 



li tiiu l>o uinitUAt, atjii n<>iu- pity 
\f. Y"", I «ni h<«pnr (■■» 'i • r, >! 



, >. y iii- 
where 
I pray 
i 7 can 

'- 1 ng 



" Ho that U despisi'd, and bath a Mfvant, is 
laD be tl^at honoroth bimaclf, and htckeib 

r I hate; je» 

I nvi , uiid bauds that 

'. w'i i' <\ ini.i^'ii litionil, 

D iim 

itiAf aoWhUi i;ibU>iii* AUu^tU Ciiunii.(..\.'' 



' Who but teUhM to Irv 
Of OBOCH, Bins again 






>u crowd. 



They arc U\y muter*, thou Uicir 



fXO-l •<•' I I 



•t I I a' 



ut Cm iHl, b:* aelf- 
tV'«' )!) «V>t -t»er, 



ly til iiiu u.iiiiu HH " Ui>i >!' 
i'id«r." nr tAkitisf in vain ' 



<u I'l toil li'in tiiai lie ta 
. -SO new wayo. . 

1 lUiuN luut t'r<jji<Jico againat ibstrumeata for 



Sincerely and aflTcctionattly. 

L. J. LiTTLK. 



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